


Petrichor in Blue

by adoctoraday



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Accidental sugar daddy Percival Graves, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Police, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Blow Jobs, Boys In Love, Brooding, But no major character death, Canon Gay Relationship, Classical Music, Coming In Pants, Composer Credence, Concerts, Credence Barebone Crying During Sex, Credence Barebone Gets a Hug, Detective Graves, Dirty talk makes credence blush, Drinking to Cope, Falling In Love, Feels, First Time Blow Jobs, Frottage, Gellert Grindelwald Being an Asshole, Grief/Mourning, Hand Jobs, Happy Credence Barebone, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Loss, Lots of Firsts, M/M, Mary Lou Barebone is Her Own Warning, Multiple Orgasms, Murder, Music, Music Creation, New York City, Past Child Abuse, Past Percival Graves/Theseus Scamander, Percival Graves has a credence kink, Percival likes it, Percy really likes making credence come, Piano, Praise Kink, Protective Original Percival Graves, Rain, Smitten Original Percival Graves, Smut, Workaholic Original Percival Graves, composing as an expression of love, credence has a Percival Graves kink, petrichor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-10-11 09:13:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17444066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoctoraday/pseuds/adoctoraday
Summary: Detective Graves has been trying to bring down Gellert Grindelwald and his cult of neo -Puritan revolutionaries for months, but the only thing he has to show for it is a suspension for alleged brutality and a pack a day smoking habit.A ticket to a performance by the rising young composer Credence Barebone is not his ideal birthday gift, but hey, he’s nothing if not open minded.From the first notes of Petrichor, to the last strains of Blue, he’s enraptured; by the music, by the boy, and before the end, he’ll find not only love, but justice.





	1. Petrichor

**Author's Note:**

> Well, since I’ve read just about every Gradence fic there is on AO3, I thought I’d write my own!! So, this story is heavily influence by classical music, namely the works of Ludovico Einaudi, and born of my love of both Gradence and classical music. The playlist can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/user/h8zhsilbhzlfphod5alsli88e/playlist/1fIHB3Dh7kTgj7zSAT7gw8?si=tlYg2VBdScqwqLU_
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and please, comment or come find me on tumblr at: thebuckybrigade so we can squee about Gradence together!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Songs for this chapter are: Eros, Ancora, Time Lapse, Petrichor and Nuvole Bianche, all by Ludovico Einaudi. These are the songs that are performed during the concert and played in later parts of the chapter. Check out the playlist to hear them while you read!

 

* * *

 

“Happy Birthday you old curmudgeon.”

 

Percy snorts but takes the proffered envelope, lifting a brow at Sera when he slides a finger under the flap, “Old? Remind me, who was a year ahead of who during training?”

 

She rolls her eyes at him and leans back in the chair across from his desk, “Yes, but I’m three years younger than you,” she reminds him, full lips curling into a gentle smile.

 

“Doesn’t matter, you’re still the oldest,” he replies, gaze flickering up to her face from the kind words his fellow officers and detectives have written in the card. He’s not one for sentimental bullshit, but it is nice to hear that they don’t hate him.

 

Especially after…

 

Clearing his throat, Percy flips the thin piece of paper between his fingers and reads out loud, “Petrichor in Blue, October 4, 2019. 8pm at Carnegie Hall—Jesus Sera, _classical_?” he scoffs, shaking his head in wry amusement.

 

“You know, most people just say _thank you_ when they get a birthday gift,” she replies dryly, rising to her feet with a smirk. “Enjoy a little culture Graves, you might actually have a good time for once.”

 

Before he can come up with a witty retort, she’s gone, his door left hanging open so the chaos of the bullpen intrudes on his solitude. With a wry shake of his head and a sigh, he tosses aside the ticket and turns his attention back to the case that’s been consuming him for months now.

 

Gellert Grindelwald

 

Suspected anarchist and cult leader to neo-Puritans intent on violent revolution, and possibly, murderer.

 

 _Well_ , not so possibly, Percy’s seen him kill...but the man had wriggled off on a technicality like the worm he is and smirked his way out of the courtroom; Percy’s good name tarnished by accusations of police brutality.

 

_If you’re going to be a Detective, at least have the decency to do it well Percival. The last thing the Graves name needs is accusations of incompetence and brutality associated with it._

 

He can still hear his father’s disgust from the last time they spoke, months ago now. He had been reminded in a coldly detached manner that any poor behavior on his part would reflect badly on the Graves name, and to _please try to stay out of the headlines in the future._

 

Just another in a long line of disappointments and failures, he supposes.

 

The case haunts him; the faces of the missing and the dead seek him out at night, robbing him of his rest and he’s beginning to fear, his sanity. Sera has ordered him more than once to leave it alone, to let the task force handle it, but he _can’t_ , not after…

 

Scrubbing his hands over his face, Percy sighs tiredly; the patter of rain against the window is soft, soothing, reminding him of the sleep he’s been missing out on for months. Too many nights laying awake has sapped him of his hope, his strength, his conviction in the system.

 

Dark circles line his eyes and he’s smoking half a pack of cigarettes a day and he’s got more silver at his temples than he did last year, but he can’t just let this case go. Maybe he’s just broken, and too stubborn or stupid to notice, but he can’t quit.

 

He loses himself once more in the details of the case, searching for any detail he might have missed the thousands of other times he’s read over everything.

 

There has to be justice for the missing and murdered, because if there isn’t, what the _hell_ is he even doing this for?

 

* * *

 

 

Two days later he’s taking a long drag from his cigarette—his last in the pack—watching as one of Grindelwald’s followers slinks into the rundown church on 23rd, the rain blurring out his features from this far away.

 

The radio is playing softly in the background, some pop bullshit that he can’t stand, but can’t be bothered to change.

 

“And it’s 7:15 here in the Big Apple; callers, let us know what you have planned for this rainy Friday evening.”

 

The time jiggles at him and he glances down at the radio, frowning as the time ticks over to 7:16 pm.

 

Friday...

 

The 6th...

 

 _Petrichor in Blue_ he remembers suddenly, hand slapping against the breast of his leather jacket where he had tucked the ticket this morning.

 

“Shit,” he huffs, shaking his head as he glances back to the church. He wants to stay, keep an eye on Grindelwald and his followers, but he knows he shouldn’t.

 

If Sera found out...hell if IA finds out, he’ll lose his badge and Grindelwald will never get caught and put away.

 

Reluctantly, he pulls away from the curb, glancing again at the clock. He’s gonna be late.

 

“Shit.”

 

* * *

 

 

The ticket taker and usher both give him dirty looks for being ten minutes late, and dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, but they don’t say anything, not when they see his badge at his hip—and it’s not like he uses it for special treatment, but occasionally it comes in handy for situations like these. The house lights are lowering and the orchestra is warming up as he’s lead to his seat, the crowd murmuring softly.

 

He’s close to the front and it strikes him then that Sera and the others who signed the card must have spent a lot on these tickets. He feels a pang if unease at the thought; he genuinely likes Sera and Tina and even Newt—though he’s an odd duck to be sure.

 

If he doesn’t like the music he decides, he’ll lie and tell them it was amazing.

 

The lighting changes; blue falls on the piano at the center of the stage and a recording of rainfall begins and none of this is what Graves thought it would be because when the audience cheers it’s more enthusiastically than Graves would think for a classical performance.

 

There’s a ripple at the curtain and a moment later a young man steps out, eyes cast down as he crosses the stage to the piano.

 

He’s lean, almost waifish, with high angular cheeks and long, thin fingers. His suit is ill fitting and old fashioned and he’s hunched as the audience claps, gaze flickering rapidly between the crowd and the piano.

 

Graves doesn’t know much about classical music or piano playing, but he thinks the kids’ hands look made to create music. When he sits, the audience quiets, an air of expectation filling the hall.

 

“I heard he’s only 24,” a woman next to him whispers to her husband, “raised in some church in the city and learned to play from his mother.”

 

_Huh_

 

Brow furrowing, he watches as the kid seats himself, takes a slow, steady breath and then nods. The rainfall quiets, fades into the background, and Graves sees his fingers flex on the keys for a heartbeat and then…

 

_And then_

 

It’s...entirely unlike anything he’s heard before. He hasn’t listened to a ton of classical music, wouldn’t consider himself a _fan_...but...he can’t look away, can’t stop himself from leaning forward, can barely breathe he’s so utterly enraptured.

 

The music is…

 

_Is_

 

It’s _alive,_ he thinks, because how else could it make him tremble in his seat and swallow back tears that he has no idea why he’s crying?

 

The song is called _Eros—_ love—he thinks, but it’s dark and almost frenetic and the way the strings play is almost unholy, but there’s something about the music that reaches inside him and awakens something, something dark and yearning.

 

The boy moves with the music, leaning towards the keys as if he’s listening to a person speak, nods and shakes his head, torso swaying as he pours himself into the conversation he’s having with the instrument.

 

Song after song flows out, some of them sweet and gentle, others like _Eros_ , frenetic and dark and for the life of him he’s not sure which he likes better.

 

 _Ancora_ lasts nearly 12 minutes and he can’t even breathe when the song lulls into silence multiple times before continuing on, and for some reason, he pictures his mother, smiling at him as her gentle fingers run through his hair, the scent of lilac on her skin as she kisses his forehead, her soft melodious voice singing along with the radio as she prepares dinner.

 

Tears well in his eyes and he unashamedly wipes them away, heart constricting in his chest with each rapturous note.

 

 _Time Lapse_ transports him, every note carrying him away. His throat is tight as he watches the kid play, some deep emotion on the boy’s face that he can’t place, and it only makes him yearn more for something he can’t name, to know who this kid is, how he plays so beautifully.

 

Graves has never seen anything like it and when the boy slows and then stops, his heart skips in his chest, just before the thunderous applause begins. He looks around, stunned, and then joins the crowd on his feet, clapping together numb hands as he watches the thin, solemn boy bow to the audience.

 

His gaze sweeps the crowd and for a short, electric moment, their eyes meet. Graves feels the air suck from his lungs at the sorrow in the dark eyes, takes a half step forward as if he’s going to reach out and offer comfort, and then stutters to a halt when his hip hits the seat in front of him, jolting him back into reality.

 

He mutters a hasty apology to the old woman glaring up at him from the seat he jostled and then glances back at the stage, disappointment flooding in when he realizes the boy is gone.

 

“I swear, I cry _every_ time!”

 

“Such a brilliant performer! And so young!”

 

“He’ll be playing all over the world in six months, mark my words!”

 

Graves has collapsed into his seat, watching as the crowd dissipates, his soul still shaken by the magic of what he has just witnessed. When the usher politely asks him to leave, he nods, ducks outside, and strolls around the back of the building where he knows performers enter and exit.

 

He’s probably too late, by now, but…

 

His fingers pinch a cigarette too tight, he bought a new pack even after he promised Sera he’d quit for his birthday. He’s 46, not 26, and the drinking doesn’t help either, but…

 

The lighter clicks, loud and metallic in the alleyway, the blue flame flickering as he stares, reminded viscerally of the blue light flooding the boy on the stage.

 

If he’s 24 he’s not much of a boy anymore, though, not much of an adult either, Graves thinks. He hadn’t matured out of his post-teenage idiocy until well into his 30’s.

 

Sera would say he _never_ matured, but he doesn’t listen to her anyway. Not about shit like that.

 

The rusted half painted door swings out with a screech of the hinges and before Graves can react or think of an appropriate greeting, the kid is stumbling out into the rain, eyes widening when he sees Graves leaning against the chain link fence in front of him.

 

Now that he can see him, Graves feels once again like he can’t breathe.

 

The boy is thin, with a sharp cheekbones and feline eyes that look far too sad for someone who just sold out a concert and received a standing ovation for three minutes. His hands are tucked under his armpits and Graves notices suddenly that he’s got no coat on, just a thin burgundy sweater that does nothing against the chilly rain that’s been falling for three days.

 

“I-uh-I don’t have any cash.”

 

Confused, Graves tilts his head and frowns at the boy, “Excuse me?”

 

“I-I said...I don’t have cash.”

 

The boy stutters over his words, pale skin going even paler as his eyes dart around the poorly lit alleyway, searching for a way out, and Graves suddenly realizes—the kid thinks he’s going to mug him.

 

It’s so unexpected, it makes him laugh.

 

“Nah, kid, I don’t want your money,” he tells him, laughing softly. He waves a hand to dismiss the thought and pulls aside his jacket to show him the badge and gun at his hip, “Detective Graves. I got a ticket to your show for my birthday,” he explains.

 

The kid relaxes minutely, nodding, “I-uh-I hope you enjoyed it sir,” he murmurs, gaze flickering to meet Graves’s before darting away shyly.

 

“I’ve never heard music like that,” Graves admits, “I’m not much of a classical fan but,” he shakes his head incredulously, “your music, it’s, transcendent.”

 

_Transcendent?_

 

What a fucking mooney eyed _idiot_.

 

“W-wow, I mean, thank you sir.”

 

Graves glances up and finds the boy smiling faintly, almost hopefully, his cheeks flushed pink and he thinks how _pretty_ he is, just before he shakes his head and reminds himself that he has no business thinking _anything_ like that about a boy so obviously younger and more, _wholesome_ than he is, or ever was.

 

“Yea, well, you earned it kid,” he replies gruffly, frowning for a moment, “what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you _kid_ ,” he jokes dryly.

 

“Oh, I don’t mind sir. But, uh, it’s, Credence Barebone, sir, uh, I mean Detective.”

 

The flush on Credence’s cheeks deepens and for a moment, Graves can picture the way it would trail down that swanlike throat to that thin chest, rising and falling rapidly as his hands trail over him…

 

 _Christ_ he needs to get ahold of himself.

 

“Credence, well, it was a pleasure getting to see you perform,” he murmurs, stepping forward to offer his hand, “I think you’ve converted me into a classical music fan,” he says with a wink as the boy— _Credence—_ blushes and shakes his hand.

 

He can feel how rough the boy’s palm is against his, disconcertingly so, given what the rest of his pale skin looks like— _smooth, silky, enticing—_ and _fuck_ he needs to stop thinking like that.

 

“I’m happy to hear that Detective,” Credence murmurs in reply, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck as he smiles, a little brighter than before.

 

“Just Graves, or Percy if you like,” Graves offers and what the fuck? Since when does he tell random twinks in shady alleys to call him by his first name?

 

He’s immediately shamed by the thought because no matter what this kid looks like, he’s not some back alley twink hooker looking for a John. Clearing his throat he waves around the wet alley with the hand that still holds his cigarette, “You got a car? Or a ride?” he asks, curious all of a sudden as to why there’s no one here to pick the kid up.

 

“Uh, no sir, Detective, I’ll uh, walk home,” he says, avoiding Graves’s gaze once again.

 

He can see the way the boy shrinks in on himself, as though he’s trying to hide from Graves’s questions, hoping that the man will leave him alone, but...he can’t. He can’t in good conscience leave this kid to walk in the rain, at night, in the cold.

 

“Well, how bout I give you a lift instead?” he offers, jerking his chin towards the road, “You can get dry and I’ll make sure you get home safe.”

 

He sees the kid consider it, and it looks like he’s going to refuse when a gust of wind blows through the alley, sending the kid stumbling forward, and when Graves steps forward to catch his forearms, he can feel that the sweater is soaked and can see the tinge of blue to the kids full lips, and there’s no _way_ he’s letting him walk.

 

Without thinking, he winds an arm around his shoulder and tugs him along, “C’mon kid, let’s go,” he murmurs, and to his surprise, Credence goes along without objecting.

 

They’re silent on the walk to his car, and when the doors close, he turns over the engine, lets the heat blow out for a few minutes while the windshield fogs over, the kid shivering in the seat next to him.

 

Glancing over, he curses softly when he sees that the boy still has blue lips and shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over thin shoulders and ignores the weak protests the boy tries to put up.

 

“Don’t worry about it kid. Now, where’s home?”

 

Credence pulls the jacket tighter around him and looks over at him, “It’s uh, 380 Macon St, Brooklyn.”

 

Graves nods; he knows the area.

 

They drive in silence for a bit, creeping through the ever busy streets and nightlife until finally, Graves clears his throat and asks, “So, Credence, where’d you learn to play?”

 

The kid is quiet a moment and then, still peering out the window at the lights flashing by, he replies, “My Ma. She and her husband run a church, a soup kitchen. I grew up there.”

 

Graves hums softly, “Church kid, huh?” he muses, wondering if the old adage about church kids and acting out was true. Credence doesn’t seem the type to misbehave or be rebellious though, in fact, if he had to guess, he’d say the kid probably still goes to church.

 

“So, how did you get started playing places like Carnegie?”

 

He glances at Credence and finds the kid tracing patterns on the fogged glass.

 

“A man heard me playing and came into the church. Turns out his friend is in the New York Philharmonic Orchestra and he thought I could be a part of it someday. He pulled a few strings, got me to play for a few people, and we recorded a few songs I had written.”

 

“Wait, you wrote what you played tonight?”

 

He shouldn’t be surprised, but knowing that, it changes something; the kid isn’t just some piano prodigy, he’s a damn _genius_.

 

“Uh, yea, yea I did. Why?”

 

Graves glances over again and smiles faintly, shaking his head, “Nothin kid, I’m just, impressed.” He pauses a moment and then taps the kids knee with his knuckles, “You’re gonna be famous someday and I’ll get to tell people I gave you a ride home,” he jokes.

 

Credence huffs out what might be laugh but shakes his head, blushing, “I doubt I’ll ever be famous. If it’s God’s plan of course, I’ll be happy.”

 

Graves doesn’t quite know what to say to that so he just nods, stays quiet. Other people’s faith has always made him uneasy. He can remember going to church with his family; Irish to the bone and faithful to a fault he thinks bitterly.

 

His father had taken the adage “He that spareth his rod hateth his son: But he who loves him chasteneth him betimes,” to heart more times than Graves cared to recall. His mother though, had been a sweet, gentle woman, inclined to laughter and dancing, even in the face of her dour husband’s disapproval.

 

They pull up in front of a modest brownstone and Graves silently raises his brows _nice place_ he thinks, glancing up to where a window is lit and a cat sits, looking down at them.

 

He glances over and finds Credence staring at him, eyes searching and curious, and when he realizes he’s been caught, his cheeks flush and he glances away, stammering a whispery apology.

 

Graves ignores it and just nods, “It was nice talking with you Credence,” he murmurs, and then, without really thinking about it, reaches into his pocket for one of his business cards, scribbles his personal cell number on the back and hands it to the kid.

 

It’s more an accident than intent when his fingers trail over Credence’s palm, and he’s sure now that there’s something on them; scars, burns, he can’t really tell because the kid gives a full body shiver, his dark eyes hungry on Graves’s face, darting to his lips before they evade his gaze.

 

The flush on his cheeks is apparent in the yellow light from the street, and Graves has this irrational desire to close the distance between them and see if those lips feel as soft as they look, but then the kid is shying away and he’s leaning back and clearing his throat, gaze firmly out the window so they can both pretend that _didn’t_ just happen.

 

From the corner of his eye he watches as Credence tucks the slip of cardstock onto his palm, looking slightly awed, like he can’t fathom how he got it. “Thank you Detective Graves,” he murmurs, offering up a shy smile.

 

“Anytime kid.”

 

He realizes he means it and as Credence unbuckles himself and cracks the door open, he reaches out, fingers locking around a thin wrist, and wide, startled eyes look back at him.

 

“Really, Credence, if you need a ride, or are scared, or hell, you just wanna talk, call me,” he tells the kid softly, voice more urgent that he had meant it to be, but the boy is nodding, wide eyed, so he smiles softly and releases his wrist.

 

“Have a good night Credence,” he murmurs, lips curled into a half smile as the boy parrots his goodbye before shutting the door and hurrying up the stairs of his building.

 

Graves watches him until he’s in the building and it’s only as he’s driving away does he realize the kid still has his jacket.

 

If he contemplates the fact that this means he’ll get to see Credence again, well, no one could really blame him for being a little excited at the prospect.

 

* * *

 

 

_“I don’t want to be your secret anymore Theo.”_

 

 _“I know Perc, but we_ **_can’t,_ ** _we can’t and you know why.”_

 

_He knows it’s a dream because they never said these words to each other, never got to have this discussion, his cowardice too great to let him ask for what he wanted; freedom._

 

_The darkness shift and the scene clarifies; a dark, dank alley, two figures on the ground, prone, stained crimson._

 

_His arms are around Theo and the younger man smiles up at him, blood in his teeth and death in his eyes, but still, that beautiful smile._

 

_“Sorry Perc, I...I shoulda known,” he rasps wetly, blood bubbling in the corner of his mouth._

 

_Tears burn hit streaks down his face as he shakes his head spasmodically, “No Theo, no, not your fault,” he whispers, voice hoarse and low and rough._

 

_He glances away briefly to where the man responsible lays on the pavement, laughing insanely, one hand pressed to his side where Percy can see blood seeping out._

 

_“You got him Theo,” he murmurs urgently, applying more pressure to the places where life is slipping out of him to die on cold wet concrete. “You got him.”_

 

 _Theo smiles, the light fading from his eyes, shakes his head weakly, “Nah..._ **_we_ ** _...got...him,” he gasps, coughing and choking on the blood that’s filling his lungs and god,_ **_god_ ** _Percy wishes he was a magician because then he could heal Theo instead of kneeling here on the wet ground, holding his partner while he dies._

 

_He can see the light leaving his eyes even as the wail of sirens grows closer and he leans down, presses his forehead to Theo’s, his tears falling on the bloody cheek beneath his._

 

_“Don’t go Theo, don’t leave me,” he pleads, knows it’s useless, hates himself for asking so much of the man he loves._

 

_A hand weakly cups the back of his head and he can feel the breath from Theo’s mouth grow weaker on his cheek._

 

_“I’m...sorry...Perc...I…….lov….”_

 

_He can feel it when the hand in his hair goes slack, the breath absent against his skin and he shatters, breaks and falls apart, collapsing onto the corpse below him that was once everything he loved._

 

_Maniacal laughter worms it’s way into his grief and he doesn’t think, just rises to his feet and stalks over, predator hunting prey, but this prey isn’t weak, no, it too is a predator._

 

_His hand knots in the fabric of the man’s suit, hauls him upright and holds him in place so he can drive his fist into the face over and over again and the whole time he’s beating the man half to death, the man just laughs and laughs and laughs._

 

_He doesn’t feel the hands on him, dragging him away, doesn’t hear his own wild screams of heartbroken fury, doesn’t feel the blood and broken knuckles, no, the only thing that pierces his consciousness is the sight of that body, too still on the concrete, the life of it gone, forever._

 

Percy wakes with a shuddering gasp, sheets soaked in sweat, chest aching with the tears he’s shed in his sleep. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his head in his hands, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes so maybe this ache in his head will go away.

 

He knows it won’t though, not anytime tonight, not without something to slow his mind; Valium, a cigarette maybe...but he promised Sera he’d stay clean, and if he wants to stay on the force, he has to keep his word.

 

Sighing heavily, he rises to his feet and pads out to the living room of his townhouse, pouring himself a few fingers of scotch before he hits play on his old fashioned CD player and sits, listens as the strains of the first song on _Petrichor in Blue_ fill the room.

 

After dropping Credence off he’d gone to his favorite record store and searched until he’d found the CD, tucked into a small Classical section that looked like it rarely got attention from buyers. He’d held off listening to it until he got home and now, in the sleepless dead of the night, he closed his eyes and let the music transport him.

 

This song, _Nuvole bianche,_ it reminded him of Theo.

 

Or maybe it was just the dream, the pain and loss staining everything, just like Theo’s blood had stained the ground in that spot for months afterward.

 

 _Christ_ he was maudlin tonight. He scoffed at himself and took a wincing sip of scotch, cheek throbbing where he bit it in his sleep.

 

He can taste copper along with the oak of the alcohol and he swallows heavily around the knot in his throat. He wishes now that he’d had the courage to tell Theo he didn’t want to be a secret, that he wanted to be together, in the daylight where anyone could see them.

 

He knows why it had to be a secret and shame on him for getting involved with a married man in the first place, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to have regrets.

 

And _oh_ _god_ , did he have regrets.

 

He regrets being a coward.

 

He regrets letting them split up that last time they were together.

 

He regrets not shooting Gellert Grindelwald when he had the chance.

 

He regrets...everything it feels like some nights.

 

His glass is empty and he’s no more tired now than he was ten minutes ago, so he pours another and sits on the couch, watching the moon get lower in the sky until daylight is creeping along the edges of the grey and the scotch lies heavy and dark in his belly.

 

He’ll regret this later, and he snorts, shaking his head at his own stupidity, because he’ll just add it to the pile, let it fester along with the dead bodies and missing kids he can’t pin on the monster who killed Theo and broke his heart.

 

What’s one more broken heart in a city full of sorrow, after all.


	2. Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at that, I updated! I wanna thank everyone for all the kind comments so far, it means so so much to me. This story is 99% done and prewritten so I’ll likely be updating once a week. Please comment, it means so much to me!! 
> 
> Songs for this chapter are all by Ludovico Einaudi: Night, Elements and Mountain.

He still has Detective Graves’s jacket, three days later, and he hasn’t called or texted the man to let him know—though,  _ of course _ the man already knows—it’s a nice jacket and anyone with half a brain and an attention span would notice it’s gone. 

 

He hopes the Detective doesn’t think he’s stolen it, or that he plans on keeping it, it’s just, he doesn’t know what to say. 

 

_ Hello Detective Graves, I have your jacket, oh and would you like to kiss me? _

 

Discordant notes ring through his tiny apartment; he hasn’t been able to focus and play in days. He keeps thinking back to the way Detective Graves would look at him—like he could  _ see _ everything in Credence’s mind, as though his thoughts were written on his face for the other man to read. 

 

He recalls the way his hand felt on his shoulder, on his wrist, bare skin touching, electric and so, so  _ right _ . 

 

_ Wrongwrongwrong  _

 

_ Sinner _

 

_ Invert _

 

He can hear his mother’s voice, hissing condemnation for his vanity, his sinfulness, his foul desires and it turns his stomach. He hasn’t listened to anything Mary Lou has to say about his life in nearly a year, he’s not going to start again  _ now.  _

 

With a groan of frustration, he bows his head onto the keys and closes his eyes. Maybe something will come to him through osmosis. 

 

A weight settles on his shoulders and a moment later a wet nose presses delicately to his ear, as always, eliciting a soft smile. He sits up slowly and pulls Oscurita off his shoulder and into his lap. 

 

A smile creeps onto his lips as he plays a mindless tune and Oscar pats the backs of his hands with his tiny black paws. His dark mood lifts slowly as he plays, his hands moving naturally from one song to another until he’s relaxed once more. 

 

He presses a kiss to the silky head in his lap and receives a nudge against his nose as Oscar leans up and nuzzles his chin, purring happily. 

 

Scooping him into his arms, Credence rises from the piano—he’s been playing far longer than he meant to be, his shift at the restaurant is in an hour, and he still needs to eat and dress. 

 

As he buttons up his black shirt, he thinks longingly of the day he’ll never have to wait tables again to make rent. It’s sinful to be greedy, he knows, but he doesn’t think it’s greed to wish for enough to get by. 

 

Not a lot.

 

Just...enough. 

 

Enough so he could maybe buy Modesty some new clothes; he knows she says she’s fine, but she’s almost sixteen and he knows she gets teased about her hand me downs and thrift store finds. He just, he wants her to have a better life than he did at her age. 

 

Speaking of his sister…

 

He knocks politely on the door to the one bedroom that they share, “Momo?” 

 

There’s a moment of silence and then the door cracks open and he smiles at his little sister, “I have to go to work, there’s leftovers from last night for dinner. If you need anything, just call.”

 

She rolls her eyes at him but it’s softened by her smile and a hug around his waist, her head tucked under his chin so he can smell roses in her hair.

 

“Be safe,” she admonishes, squeezing him a little tighter before she lets him go, and it warms him, how much she’s changed since they left the church, how unafraid she is of affection. 

 

“I will. Do your homework and feed Oscar, okay?” he shouts as he hurries out the front door, not waiting to hear her response. 

 

It’s raining out.

 

Again.

 

And...he knows he shouldn’t, but he ducks back inside for Detective Graves’s jacket and slips it on, inhaling the scent of leather and tobacco and something that smells warm, like tea. 

 

His beanie gets pulled down over his ears and he hurries into the fading light of the fall evening, hoping it’ll be an easy shift tonight. 

 

* * *

 

He’s exhausted. 

 

Another server had called out sick and Credence had to cover both sections  _ and  _ stay to close. It’s after 3am and he’s so bone tired that he thinks for a second about getting a cab, but he knows he doesn’t have the cash for it. 

 

Not if he wants to keep the lights on anyway. 

 

So he walks. 

 

He’s shivering and his jeans are damp and he looks longingly at the brightly lit McDonalds, thinks about stopping in and getting some fries and a milkshake, but no, he can’t, Momo needs new sneakers for track. 

 

He swallows down his hunger and keeps walking, icy hands tucked into the pockets of Detective Graves’s jacket. As he’s rounding the corner a car slows and pulls up, following him. 

 

His heart lurches into his throat and he’s seized by fear;  _ runrunrun _ his brain screams, but in his exhaustion, his legs don’t cooperate, so he just stands there, staring dumbly at the grey sedan, idling at the corner. 

 

The window rolls down and a voice from inside calls out. 

 

“Jesus kid, you’re gonna freeze to death, get in here.”

 

He...he  _ knows _ that voice. 

 

Taking a risk, he leans forward so he can see into the gloom of the car and his heart leaps at the sight of Detective Graves, even if the man is giving him a very disgruntled look right now. 

 

“Are-are you sure sir? I don’t want to be an imposition,” he murmurs. 

 

Detective Graves rolls his eyes, “Jesus kid, it’ll be an imposition if you freeze to death or some asshole kills you and I have to identify your body. So let’s avoid that, huh?”

 

Credence can’t tell if he’s joking until the older man smirks and jerks his chin, “Come on, I can’t stand seeing you out there,” he says, softer this time, and something in Credence shifts at that, at the thought that Detective Graves  _ cares _ .

 

Head bobbing in a jerky nod, he hurries into the car, whimpering in relief as the hot air from the vents washes over him. Detective Graves looks over at the sound and curses, shaking his head. 

 

“Dammit kid, you gotta be smarter. It’s only October and it’s already fuckin cold out.” His gaze flickers over Credence and he can see the curiosity in his gaze, the worry. “Don’t you have a thicker coat?”

 

Credence shakes his head, embarrassment flooding his cheeks and throat, burnishing his skin a rosy hue. “No sir,” he whispers, tucking his hands between his thighs so they don’t shake so much. 

 

He can see Detective Graves glancing at him from the corner of his eye, handsome brow furrowing as he studies Credence. 

 

“Shit, Credence, I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to be an asshole,” he sighs, shaking his head. “I just, you worry me kid,” he reveals softly, voice low and raspy and it sends a shiver over Credence that has nothing to do with the cold. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he answers reflexively. 

 

“I...jeez kid, you don’t have to be sorry. I wasn’t trying to...I just want you to be okay. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

 

Credence looks up at that, confused and hopeful and just... curious. How could this man, this important, successful,  _ beautiful  _ man, care at all what happened to Credence? 

 

“Why?” he asks, without thought--it just blurts out and before he can stop himself he asks, “Why do you care? You don’t even know me.”

 

Detective Graves looks surprised, and then, hurt maybe? He’s not really sure, but the older man goes still and silent, his brow furrowing and Credence ducks his head, cheeks burning in his embarrassment. 

 

“Never mind, I-I’m sorry,” he stammers. 

 

Detective Graves sighs and Credence can see his hands flex on the steering wheel before he starts talking, his voice low and almost sad. 

 

“I care because I know what it’s like to not have anyone who does. To be alone.” He hesitates and then glances over at Credence, “My mom died when I was young and my dad only cared about trying to shape me into the perfect candidate to take his place in the Governor’s office. It didn’t matter that I didn’t want that, or that I wanted to be a police officer, he was more interested in securing his legacy than he was in actually having a son.”

 

Credence frowns; that sounds...very lonely, he decides. His mother--Mary Lou, hadn’t cared about him, she had only wanted more hands to pass out pamphlets and bring in newcomers to the church, more voices to evangelize, a pretty face to lure in the public. He knows that now; after years of beatings and curses, after broken bones and a shattered heart, he knows that he’s worth so much more than Mary Lou Barebone ever thought he was. 

 

“I...I’m sorry Detective Graves, that sounds terrible,” he murmurs, glancing over to peer at the man’s handsome profile. His jaw is firm, and though there’s silver in the hair at his temples, Credence thinks how youthful he still looks. There are wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth, but they seem like the kind that come from smiling, not like the sharp ones that furrowed between Mary Lou’s brows when she glared at him.

 

“It’s fine kid, you learn from shit like that. Grow. It’s not easy, but…” he trails off and sighs, shakes his head, then glances over and smiles warmly at Credence. “But it’s usually worth it in the end.”

 

Credence just nods because he’s not sure everything he went through at the hands of his—Mary Lou, was worth it. The only things he’s grateful for are his piano skills and the fact that she hadn’t put up a fight when he had taken Momo with him when he left. 

 

It’s in the quiet between he and Detective Graves that he realizes soft music is playing and it only takes a bar before he’s inhaling sharply in surprise. 

 

“Is that my music?” he asks, incredulous and a little hesitant. 

 

Detective Graves nods and glances over at him with a soft smile, “Yea, I told you, you made me into a fan. I hunted down your CD and bought it,” he tells Credence, gaze switching back to watch the road. 

 

“I haven’t quite decided which song is my favorite though. Hey, I have a question for you—did you just write these for the piano or for the instruments that accompany you?”

 

Credence stares at him for a moment, utterly bewildered by his interest, and then clears his throat and tries to answer. “It was, uh, just the piano at first, but I knew there was something missing, it just, felt empty on some of them.”

 

Graves nods and Credence glances up at the street signs; they’re about ten minutes from his apartment. It’s almost 4am and Momo has to be up for school in a few hours; he’ll need to pack her lunch and check her homework before he gets any sleep. 

 

With his shift at the bodega on the corner in just eight hours, he’ll be lucky if he gets four hours of sleep. Wiping a tired hand over his face, he leans his head against the window, the chill seeping in slowly through the wool fabric of his beanie. 

 

He must fall asleep because he’s being shaken awake and a low voice is calling his name. When his eyes flutter open he finds Detective Graves watching him with wary, concerned eyes. 

 

“C’mon kid, let's get you inside,” the older man murmurs. Before Credence can object, Graves is undoing his seatbelt and coming around the car to take his elbow and guide him up the stairs. It’s embarrassing, but Credence leans into the hand, so exhausted that he can’t make himself  _ not  _ enjoy the sensation of the firm touch. 

 

“Keys?” Graves asks and Credence fumbles them out of his pocket, sighing unhappily when they slip from his numb fingers and clack onto the dirty floor. “I got it kid, don’t worry,” Graves murmurs soothingly, scooping the keys up and holding them tight as he slips his hand from his elbow to slide around his waist and hold him upright. 

 

Credence watches through hazy eyes as Detective Graves pushes his apartment door open, his hand firm at the small of his back, guiding him inside. When the older man tries to steer him towards the bedroom he shakes his head and lurches toward the couch instead. 

 

“Momo is sleeping,” he explains, “my sister,” he elaborates at the confused look on the older man’s face. “I gotta get her up and get her to school,” he tells him, suddenly remembering his other tasks for the night. 

 

With a tired sigh he kicks off his shoes and pads into the kitchen, not really aware that Detective Graves is following till he turns and finds the older man leaning on the counter, watching him with interest. 

 

“W-what?” Credence stammers, nervously running his fingers through his hair. 

 

Graves shrugs, “Nothin, just wondering how you’re still on your feet. Where were you working anyway?”

 

Credence turns away, grabbing all the things he needs to make Momo’s lunch before turning back and facing Detective Graves. “I work at the Hilton hotel restaurant in Tribeca,” he explains as his hands work almost by muscle memory alone. 

 

He chops up vegetables for a salad, peels an orange into slices, cuts up chicken for a little protein, and tucks in a candy bar with a note signed with a heart. 

 

“One of the other servers called out so I had to work a double and help close,” he murmurs, sighing heavily as he zips the bag shut and puts it in the fridge. 

 

“Would you like something to drink?” he offers, motioning to the fridge, “we have juice and almond milk, and some soda I think. There’s tea too,” he murmurs, squinting up into the cabinet before glancing back over his shoulder at the older man, throat growing dry at the way the other man is staring at him, eyes dark and curious—hungry. 

 

Detective Graves shakes his head, “Why don’t you sit down, I’ll get it,” he replies, standing from the stool and coming around the counter, one large hand covering his shoulder as he smiles faintly at Credence. 

 

Credence tries not to lean into the touch but, he’s just so  _ tired _ . The hand at his shoulder trails up to cup the back of his neck, squeezing softly, and he shudders as he’s guided to sit on the stool the older man has just vacated, the firmness of the touch grounds him a little, focuses his tired mind. 

 

He watches as Detective Graves pulls down two mugs, fills the kettle and sets it on to boil, then drops sachets of mint tea into the mugs, every move fluid and sure, despite the fact he’s never been in this kitchen before. 

 

_ How does he know where everything is?  _

 

“Most kitchens are set up the same, oddly enough,” Detective Graves tells him with a smirk, arms crossed over his chest and for the first time, Credence notices that his coat is off and the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up. 

 

But wait, did he say that out loud? 

 

Detective Graves must see the question on his face because he chuckles and shakes his head, “Kid you must be tired if you don’t realize you’re talking out loud,” he teases and a flush rises on Credence’s cheeks at the way the older man smiles at him; eyes warm and affectionate, lips quirked to the side in amusement. 

 

“Yea, sorry,” he mutters, chin ducking to avoid that too knowing stare. 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Detective Graves says, and Credence glances up when he hears the man moving, peering into the living room where the piano is tucked under the window, the patter of icy rain loud in the silence of the apartment.

 

“You compose here?”

 

“Mmhmm.”

 

“I’d love to hear you sometime,” Graves tells him, turning back to smile as his fingers trail over the keys without making sound. “I mean, if you wanted,” he amends, sounding a little nervous. 

 

“I...yea, okay,” Credence agreed, surprising both of them, it seems, but he finds he really likes the idea of playing for Detective Graves, here in the privacy of his apartment, where he can have the man’s eyes on him, and have the delight and awe all to himself. 

 

It’s selfish, he thinks, to want so much from a man he barely knows, but if Detective Graves wants to hear his music, who is Credence to say no? 

 

The flame under the kettle is blue and flickers in the dim light of the apartment, a soft guttering sound that pairs with the slowly heating water until it’s a gentle white noise that makes the last of the tension in his spine slip away. 

 

When Detective Graves sets a mug full of steaming tea in front of him, Credence jolts, unaware that he had spaced out for so long. The older man leans on the counter across from him, eyes appraising as he studies Credence. 

 

He’s shy as he meets the man’s gaze, too tired for guile when he asks, “Are you Governor Graves’s son?”

 

It had taken him some time to place the name, and when the Detective had told him about his family, it had finally connected the dots in Credence’s tired mind. 

 

Brows rise in surprise. “I am, I didn’t think you picked up on that,” he replies. 

 

“I knew the name, just took a second to place it,” Credence tells him. He gazes sidelong at the man, “I’m sorry for how he treated you,” he tells him, filter long gone in his exhaustion. 

 

“I...yea, thank you Credence. You’re a sweet kid,” Graves murmurs, lips hovering over the rim of his mug. His eyes are soft and attentive and Credence bobs his head, smiling back softly. 

 

“Thank you sir.”

 

“I told you, call me Percy,” he replies, gently teasing, “I’m not old enough to be called  _ sir _ yet, huh?” He runs a hand over his hair, “I might be getting some silver hair, but I’m not gonna need a cane anytime soon.”

 

Credence grips his mug tighter, the heat of his soothing his scars as he nods in agreement, “You’re not old at all, P-Percy. And I think the silver looks...distinguished,” he rushes out, cheeks flaming st his boldness. 

 

“Distinguished huh? Isn’t that just another word for old?”

 

Credence looks up at him and shakes his head, one hand trembling as he reaches up— _ what is he doing??— _ and runs his fingers over those silver strands like he has thought about since he first met the man. 

 

“I like it,” he whispers, unaware that he’s leaning up towards the man, lips parted, eyes glazed with want. “You look strong and handsome.”

 

Percy takes him by surprise, reaching up to wrap his fingers around his wrist so he can pull the hand from his hair towards his face. Completely enraptured, Credence doesn’t resist, instead, he focuses on the sensation of rough calluses against his skin, the heat in Percy’s gaze, the arch of his spine as he tries to get closer to the man. 

 

Percy’s gaze is fixed on him, and the first touch of his lips to Credence’s knuckles elicits a soft gasp of surprise, quickly followed by another when he flips Credence’s hand and presses his lips to the thin skin of his wrist. 

 

He’s breathing too fast, too loud, he knows, but the sensation of Percy’s lips against his wrist leaves him aching for something he can’t articulate, though his mind helpfully provides images of Percy’s mouth elsewhere and his breath rasps in his throat as he struggles not to moan. 

 

“You’re beautiful Credence, did you know that?” Percy murmurs against his palm, lips curled into a smile and the heat in his gaze and the wet warmth of his mouth sends a shiver spasming over his spine, need curling through him hotly.

 

He wishes he could get closer, the granite countertop between them like an island, pushing him back, holding him in place when all he can think about is following the tide of his  _ want _ and crossing that distance till there’s no space left between them at all. 

 

Credence shakes his head numbly, because he’s not; his limbs are too long and gangly, his face too thin, body hunched after years and years of abuse...scarred and bent and broken and there’s no  _ way _ he could be considered beautiful, but the way Percy looks at him... _ oh _ , it makes him wish he was. 

 

Percy tugs on his wrist, pulling him up out of the stool, around the counter, and with a firm hand at the small of his back, he’s suddenly pressed against the man and  _ oh god _ he’s hot and firm and smells like heaven and Credence can’t hold back his whimper when Percy nudges his hips forward with the hand at his back. 

 

Dark eyes stare hungrily down at him and for a moment Credence wonders what it would be like to be devoured by this man, body and soul. A shudder passes over him and Percy releases his hand to tilt his chin up, gaze sliding down to Credence’s mouth. 

 

“I’m going to kiss you Credence, okay?”

 

He can’t speak, can barely nod his head, each thud of his heart painful in his chest and the heat in his body—in his groin—grows and grows until he’s panting heavily, and he—his cock, it  _ aches  _ where it’s pressed into his jeans. 

 

When Detective Graves’s lips press to his he gasps at the sensation, mouth opening to the older man’s embrace. The hand at his back presses him closer and he gasps to feel a hard length against his hip— _ that’s his cock _ he thinks giddily. 

 

His hands climb up Graves’s shirt and cling at his shoulders, the older man smiles into the kiss and pulls him closer, though Credence hadn’t thought there was anywhere closer they could be. Lights dance behind his eyes as Detective Graves kisses him, tongue flicking against his lower lip until Credence feels dizzy, weightless. 

 

The older man nips at his lower lip, then drags his tongue over the mark, over and over again until Credence is weak in his arms, fire consuming his lungs and blood and bones and he thinks dazedly that he might just combust, burst apart into ashes and tatters of the boy who once was Credence. 

 

He doesn’t realize he’s grinding his hips into the fabric of Detective Graves’s jeans and whimpering until his cock spurts out precum, hot and wet against his overheated skin and he tremors in the man’s arms, whining deep in his throat, desperate for more.

 

“Shh, I’ve got you sweetheart,” Detective Graves whispers, lips trailing down his throat and  _ Jesus save him _ , he doesn’t understand how this feels so much better than just his kisses. Teeth mark his skin just under his ear and a sharp gasping whine fills the air, his hips rocking urgently against Detective Graves’s as he chases the burning feeling in his gut that always precedes him cuming.

 

He’s aware that he’s whining and gasping, too loud, but he can’t control himself, can’t stop, can only  _ wantwantwant _ . 

 

“Cree?”

 

The sleepy voice of his sister is like ice dumped on his head. Wrenching back from Detective Graves, he stumbles toward the living room, heart beating rapidly and breaths coming too fast. 

 

Momo’s sleepy blue eyes find him in the gloom of the apartment, brow furrowed in sleep dazed confusion. “I thought I heard voices,” she murmurs.

 

He jerks his head too fast in agreement, “My friend gave me a ride home from work. We didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs, “go get rest, school is soon,” he encourages softly. 

 

She smiles tiredly and nods, waving a hand before she’s slipping back into the bedroom, and the  _ snick _ of the door closing sounds  _ so  _ loud to Credence as he stands there, reality washing over him.

 

He had…

 

He had  _ kissed _ Detective Graves. He had been kissed. And  _ liked it.  _

 

“Credence?”

 

He flinches at the call of his name; Graves’s voice is low and rough and when he finally gathers his courage to turn and look at the older man, the sight of his mussed hair and shiny lips makes his knees weak, the fire in his belly flickering back to life. 

 

He shifts closer, one step, then another, until he’s standing before the man, gaze low as he tries to find words for what he’s feeling. A gentle hand on his cheek surprises him and he allows it to turn his chin up so he can see that Detective Graves is staring intently down at him. 

 

“Are you ok?”

 

It’s asked softly, and he can hear the worry in the man’s voice, see the concern in his eyes and it makes him lean in, hands landing on his firm chest. Detective Graves smiles fondly and his arms wrap around Credence’s waist, holding him close so he can press his lips to Credence’s temple—the gesture soft, almost tender and it makes Credence feel…

 

So much. 

 

“Yea, I-I’m okay,” he breathes, nodding faintly. 

 

“Good. I was worried it was too much,” Graves whispers. “I don’t...I like you Credence, but I don’t want to rush you,” he explains. 

 

Something about that makes Credence smile and turn his chin so he can meet Graves’s eyes, “It was good,” he murmurs, “I just…” the words stick in his throat and he tries again, “I haven’t done that...before.”

 

Detective Graves’s brows rise, “With a man? Or ever?” he asks curiously, voice gentle as he strokes Credence’s throat with his thumb. 

 

He can feel the blush on his cheeks but he decides to be honest—and maybe it’s the exhaustion and the euphoria from the kissing (and the other thing) that gives him the courage, but he  _ really  _ doesn’t want to lie to Percy. 

 

“With a man. I kissed a girl a couple of times,” he whispers, glancing at Percy from the side, watching his reaction, wondering how he’ll feel about it, but the older man just nods and smiles, presses another kiss to his temple. 

 

“I’m glad I could be your first then, with this.”

 

His large hands pass over Credence’s back in soft soothing circles and his eyes start to grow heavy, warmth filling him as the other man pulls him against his chest, his head tucked under his chin so Credence can smell his cologne and the lingering tobacco teases his nose. 

 

He’s actually taller than Detective Graves, but after years of hunching under his mother’s abuse and over the keys of the piano, it’s not hard for him to be pulled against him and held. It’s comfortable actually; warm and reassuring and it feels like home. 

 

“Credence…”

 

“Mmmm?”

 

Soft laughter fills his ear, “C’mon sweetheart, time to rest,” Detective Graves murmurs, gently guiding him away from his chest and over to the couch, his eyes barely open as he collapses down onto the worn fabric. 

 

He feels hands removing his shoes and then lips pressing to his brow; firm and comforting and with a faint, tired smile, he leans into it, sighing happily. A soft chuckle has him opening his eyes to see Detective Graves crouched beside him, hand petting his head in a gesture that’s oddly soothing. 

 

“Get some sleep sweetheart,” he orders, “I’ll see you soon,” he promises before leaning in and kissing him, this time on the lips. It’s brief, and firm and over before his tired brain can react and then his eyes are falling shut and the front door is opening and between it closing and his lips curling into a smile, Credence falls asleep. 


	3. Resta Con Mi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, fluff and smut! The holy trio! 
> 
> As always, songs for this chapter are by Ludovico Einaudi: “Ora”, “Resta con me” and “Como in fiore”
> 
> And as always, comments are adored, replied to and held dear to my heart!!

It’s not until a few days pass that Percy realizes Credence still has his jacket. It makes him smile though, to think of the kid wearing it—the fabric just a touch too big on his thin frame, hanging loose over his burgundy sweater and jeans, looking like some kind of emo rocker. 

 

It makes some little possessive part of him preen at the thought of Credence wearing his jacket, and he knows it’s ridiculous to be this head over heels for someone he just met, let alone someone that’s 22 years younger than him, but he can’t quite seem to care. 

 

He resolves to buy a winter coat for the kid, adds it to the mental checklist of things he noticed Credence needs; groceries, new sneakers, a scarf and gloves…

 

It’s not really a good idea to buy it all, not so soon, but, maybe he can get away with the coat and gloves for now? Opening the app for his favorite outerwear clothing store, Loro Piana, he scrolls until he finds a royal blue coat that’s just,  _ perfect. _

 

He doesn’t hesitate at the price, just adds in cashmere gloves and a scarf before he types in the kid’s address and has it express shipped. There’s a pair of sneakers that would look amazing on Credence so he sends those too. 

 

_ While he’s at it _ ...it’s a quick thing to order the groceries and send them, and when he’s done he’s a little poorer, but it’s well worth it. 

 

Sinking back in his office chair, he laces his fingers behind his neck and stares up at the ceiling, listening to Petrichor in Blue fill the dim space as he contemplates the things he knows about Credence. 

 

He forms a mental list that starts with  _ too young for me  _ and ends with  _ incredibly talented  _ and he’s no closer to figuring out  _ what _ exactly it is he feels for the kid—lust, that one’s obvious, admiration too, and more than a tinge of affection—but what it  _ means _ ...he’s not sure. 

 

Theo died almost a year ago, and he’s had emotionless one night stands since then, but no one has captured his attention quite like Credence. 

 

“Daydreaming boss?”

 

Tina’s wry amusement draws his attention outward, to where she’s leaning in the doorway, watching him with an air of curiosity. 

 

“Something like that,” he admits, waving a hand toward the seat across from him, “What’s up Tina?”

 

She stays at the doorway and shakes her head, “It’s just, I was driving home the other night and I happened to be by the church Grindelwald operates out of—”

 

“Oh?” he murmurs, smirking. The church is in the opposite direction from where Tina lives, but he’s not going to stop her from investigating, not with that monster on the street.

 

To her credit she doesn’t respond to his mild teasing, though a light flush rises on her cheeks as she plows on. “And I noticed something...odd.” At his raised brow she goes on, “The children of the church were out, handing out pamphlets, and I noticed that one of the older ones is gone.”

 

At this he sits up, frowning. “Do you know a name?”

 

Tina shakes her head and sighs, scrubbing a hand across her face. “He would never tell me. He was always with a little blonde girl—his sister I guess, but no, he wouldn’t tell me his name.”

 

She huffs out a scoffing sound and grimaces, “ _ Names have power ma’am, _ that’s what he said to me,” she tells him with an incredulous shake of her head. 

 

Percy sighs and sinks back in his seat. There’s nothing there to go on, and disappointment tastes bitter in his mouth. He tries to summon up an encouraging word for Tina, but he just can’t find it in himself. 

 

“If he’s an adult there’s not much we can do,” he reminds her uselessly, voice leaden and tired. All his happiness from earlier has dissipated, and he’s left with sorrow and disappointment once again. 

 

“I know, I just, I think someone should keep an eye out,” she replies, “on the church. A close eye.” She gives him a look that one might call significant and nods toward the case file that’s always on his desk and mind. 

 

“Don’t worry Goldstein, it has my attention,” he promises, nodding politely when she backs away without a goodbye. The door shuts behind her and he lays a hand over his mouth, eyes falling shut as he contemplates what she’s told him with what he knows of the church.

 

He has the case file damn near memorized, and he’s pretty sure there’s a list of the kids from the church, but he’s too tired to picture it clearly so he opens his eyes with no small amount of resignation and reaches for the file. 

 

He flips through until he finds the list and his own notes on the personal relationships within the church and starts scouring it for information. Grindelwald is married to Mary Lou Barebone...and his heart stops, drops into his stomach where it is slowly eroded by the rising tide of nausea. 

 

The list of children who live in the church is long, ten in total—six girls and four boys. 

 

He traces the name with a finger— _ Credence Barebone, Age: 22 _

 

“Jesus,” he whispers; the implications of this information slowly creeping in around the shock. 

 

“ _ Jesus _ .”

 

* * *

 

 

It takes all his self control not to hunt Credence down at one of his jobs or his apartment, but instead send a text asking if he’s free to talk. The affirmative reply has his heart racing even faster and he has to take a long steadying breathe before he dials. 

 

“Hello Detective Graves.”

 

The smile is obvious in his voice and it pinches at his heart because what he has to ask, it’s not fair and it will very likely ruin whatever this is that’s so fresh and new between them. 

 

“Hey sweetheart, I uh, can I ask you something?”

 

“Sure, I mean, you just did, but you can ask me something else.”

 

There’s a sweet teasing note in the reply and it makes him smile faintly. Christ he hopes the kid doesn’t end up hating him. 

 

“Credence, did you used to live in the New Salem Philanthropic Society’s church?”

 

Dead silence lingers over the line for so long he’s afraid the boy has hung up, but then, there’s a soft noise that almost sounds like crying, and his heart wrenches. 

 

“Credence, sweetheart, I’m sorry, please, I’m sorry,” he whispers, face dropping into one hand as he hunches forward on his desk, listening to the muffled sounds of tears. 

 

His throat grows tight and unshed tears burn in his eyes but he holds on, gives Credence his silent strength and a few moments later he finally responds. 

 

“Yes...I did...but,” he pauses and sniffs wetly, “how did you know?”

 

“I’m trying to bring down Grindelwald. We suspect him of a lot of bad things and I saw your name on a list of kids who live there.”

 

“What do you want from me?”

 

Percy is frankly stunned; he hadn’t planned on asking anything of Credence for the case—not yet anyway. He had only wanted to confirm what was already before him in ink, but deep down, he knows that the only way forward with this case is with Credence’s help.

 

“I...Credence I just wanted to make sure the name here was yours, to see...if you were okay, I guess.” 

 

“Sure Detective, I’m fine.”

 

But the way it’s said, flat and emotionless, it turns his stomach. 

 

“Can I see you?” he asks softly, desperately. He wants to see the young man, hold him—if he’s allowed, maybe provide some comfort. 

 

“I...I have to go Detective, I have work.”

 

“Later then? Please, Credence, I just want to see you, make sure you’re ok, please?”

 

He’s pleading, begging actually, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, because Credence and his beautiful music and gentle smile...he needs them in his life and he needs the kid to trust him. 

 

“I…” he sighs, goes quiet, and Percy lets him think for a minute, doesn’t push, just holds his breath and waits. “I have a shift at the hotel. I’ll meet you at the bar two doors down when my shift is over.”

 

Percy exhales heavily, lungs aching and he nods, eyes hot and achy with unshed tears. His voice is low and rough when he finally manages to speak around the lump in his throat, “Ok, I’ll be there. Thank you Credence.”

 

A noncommittal hum is the only reply he gets before Credence hangs up and frankly, he can’t blame the boy. With what he knows of what goes on at that church...whatever Credence endured there was likely horrific, and something he wouldn’t want to relive. 

 

Scrubbing a hand over his face, he sighs heavily, feeling the weight of every one of his 46 years on shoulders. He aches with exhaustion—his old friend insomnia is back—too many cigarettes and scotch doing little to improve the situation. 

 

He glances up at the clock and groans when he sees it’s only a little past three pm. Just nine hours till he sees Credence then, and he wonders for a moment if anyone would notice if he took the bottle of scotch from his desk and had a drink. 

 

Probably.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s raining again, slow and steady on his windshield, and he peers out into the murky night, watching the front of the hotel for Credence to emerge, waiting nervously, wondering if the kid is going to change his mind and just go home when the door pushes open and dark eyes meet his, hesitant for a moment before the kid is coming around the vehicle and sliding into the passenger seat. 

 

“You want to go to the bar?” 

 

Credence just shakes his head, “I’m tired, can you just,” he sighs, eyelashes fluttering on his cheeks as he leans back into the seat, “take me home?”

 

“Sure kid, no problem.”

 

But still, he keeps a close eye on the boy as he drives, watches as his eyes drift shut and his breathing slows and he fights the urge to reach out and touch that pale skin, knowing the kid needs rest and probably isn’t all that enthusiastic about him being here anyway. 

 

He parks and they walk up three flights of stairs and he’s a little ashamed of his heavy breathing as Credence fishes out his keys and opens the door. He’s going to have to quit smoking—he’s getting too old to keep it up and still manage to chase suspects on foot without collapsing of a heart attack. 

 

Peering around the apartment once more, he leans against the counter as Credence puts take out containers from work in the fridge, his back stiff as he leans up and takes down two mugs, starts the kettle warming and then turns back around to face him. 

 

There’s mistrust and caution in his eyes, and it hurts Percy to see that, but honestly, despite one  _ amazing _ make out session and a few conversations, this kid doesn’t know him. Has no reason to trust him anymore than he would a one night stand. 

 

So he sighs and smiles faintly, “I’m sorry Credence, I know this is probably the last thing you want to talk about, and I don’t enjoy asking it of you, but I need to know some things.” He pulls the casefile out from the leather case he’s kept it in and lays it out on the counter, spreading out photos and sheets of paper till the granite is hidden and all the darkness contained within that simple manila folder is spread out before them.

 

“I started on this case almost two years ago, when we first started hearing about the New Salem society. We keep an eye on organizations that call for the violent overthrow of the government and well, this one is particularly concerning to law enforcement.”

 

Credence is staring down at the documents and photos from within the file, some inscrutable expression on his face as he traces his fingers over the glossy pictures that show the many faces connected to this case. 

 

“What do you want to know?”

 

He doesn’t look up at Percy, his attention seems to rest on one photo in particular; it’s a young girl, blonde and pretty, smiling as she sings, standing next to a figure he’d recognize anywhere, playing the piano in the dark interior of the church.

 

“Whatever you feel comfortable telling me,” Percy tells him honestly. “I’m not here to pressure you to tell me anything.”

 

“And if I decide I don’t have anything to say?”

 

He does look up this time, eyes dark and unhappy as he stares at Percy, arms crossed over his chest protectively, jaw tight with anxiety and all he wants to do is reach out and pull him close, offer him the comfort of his arms, but he’s not sure that the gesture would be welcomed right now.

 

“Then you don’t have to say anything,” he assures the younger man, “I’ll leave and I’ll never ask you about the case again.” And though it pains him, he promises more; “I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again.”

 

Credence’s eyes go wide and he lurches forward, hand wrapping around his forearm, “N-no!” he exclaims softly, “I don’t...don’t go,” he whispers, voice pained and pleading and Percy’s shaking his head and stepping around the counter before he knows what he’s doing. 

 

“I won’t, I’m not,” he murmurs, drawing the boy towards him, arms winding around those thin shoulders as Credence tucks his head against his shoulder and sighs softly. “I promise.”

 

The boy makes a soft sound and wraps his arms around Percy’s waist, clinging to him tightly as Percy rubs soothing circles over his back, free hand against the back of his head, keeping him close.

 

“We don’t have to do this now,” he whispers to Credence. “You’re tired and your sister is asleep—”

 

“She’s at a friends house,” Credence blurts and then he’s pulling back and staring at Percy, eyes dark and soft. “And I’m not tired.”

 

Percy nods and swallows hard, “What can you tell me?” he asks gently.

 

Credence’s eyes grow haunted and he sighs heavily, “I was adopted when I was little, six years old. We were taught that the government was made up of immoral people who were destroying the moral fabric of the country and that one day soon we would have to remove them from office. They used bible passages to persuade people, to show them that God willed it and so it would be.”

 

He sighs and Percy thinks for a moment just how tired the kid looks, how old beyond his years his eyes are and then Credence continues. 

 

“When we forgot bible verses we were beaten and put on water and bread rations. If I didn’t hand out enough fliers I was beaten. If I asked questions that in any way undermined the teachings I was whipped. I took as much punishment as I could so the little ones didn’t have to, but it was never enough to make me good in their eyes.”

 

He laughs bitterly and the grief in his eyes makes Percy’s stomach turn. No kid should have that much sorrow in their eyes, know the kind of pain that Credence had. 

 

“When I played for mass and to attract new members, Mary Lou accused me of vanity, even as she encouraged me to play. When the man who discovered me first showed up, she accused me of offering myself to him—she couldn’t fathom that he would have an interest in someone as  _ useless _ as me.”

 

Percy feels sick to his stomach and wants to ask him to stop, but he wanted this, so he’s going to swallow all the poison Credence is bleeding out, because he asked Credence to do this and it’s only fair if he takes some of the pain. 

 

“Eventually a Detective came around and she saw what Mary Lou was doing, how she beat me, how scared and scarred I was and she told me I didn’t have to stay, that she would help me get away. I didn’t want to leave Momo behind though, and it wasn’t until the record agent came back a few times and told me he would help both Momo and I get out that I really thought we would have a chance.”

 

Credence sighs and shakes his head, “I should have left sooner, but, at least I got Momo out before it got bad for her,” he murmurs. His eyes fall closed for a moment and Percy can see how tired he is so he pulls him close, tucking him into his chest so he can try and offer some kind of comfort. 

 

Credence makes a soft noise and leans into the embrace. “Is that...ok for now? I just...I don’t want to think about it while I’m with you,” he confesses and something in Percy cracks wide open at that admission. 

 

“Of course Credence. I’m sorry I asked you to tell me, I know that was hard. You don’t, I mean, you don’t ever have to talk about it again if that’s what you want.”

 

There’s a long silence and then Credence asks, “But wouldn’t it help if I did? Don’t you need what I know to take down the church?”

 

And yea, he does, but he realizes suddenly that if it means losing Credence or hurting him, he’s not willing to ask that of the younger man. 

 

“No.”

 

He pulls Credence back so he can meet his gaze firmly and shakes his head. 

 

“No Credence, I won’t ask you to relive that if it’s going to hurt you. I just can’t see you hurt, especially if it’s my fault. You don’t have to do or say anything you don’t want to.”

 

Credence stares at him, wide eyed before his gaze softens and his full lips curl into a warm smile. “Ma would say I’m a sinner for wanting you, but I don’t think she knew what sin really was. She hurt us and made us feel broken and useless. You never make me feel that way. You’re…” he pauses for a breath before smiling and the sight of it breaks Percy’s heart with its shining beauty. 

 

“Safe.”

 

There’s something in his eyes that makes Percy realize that the kid isn’t telling him this because he wanted Credence to talk about the case, no, he’s looking at Percy with a hunger in his gaze that ignites the pit of his stomach and makes him suddenly, achingly aware of the body in his arms. 

 

His hand shifts to cup Credence’s cheek and something in him goes soft and warm when the boy leans into the touch with pleading eyes, his body swaying forward so there’s no space left between them anymore.

 

“Safe?”

 

Credence hums and nods, “I know you’d never hurt me, that you want to take care of me and I’m safe with you.  _ Happy _ ,” he elaborates and Percy’s gut twists because god, he’s  _ so  _ gone for the kid. 

 

Head over fuckin heels and it’s only been a week. 

 

“Please,” Credence whispers, eyes wide and dark and desperate. 

 

“Please what?” he teases, a playful smirk crossing his lips. “What do you want?” he asks more gently, waiting for an answer, because though he thinks he knows what it is Credence wants, he’s never just going to presume and  _ take _ . The kid has had too much taken from him, had too much  _ done _ to him against his will, and Percy absolutely refuses to be another person who takes from Credence without giving back fully. 

 

Credence bites his lower lip, frustration filling his face, eyes growing bright and Percy is immediately hushing him, pulling him closer so he can rest his forehead on the younger man’s. “Hush sweetheart, it’s ok. Whatever you want, you can ask for,” he tells him gently. “I won’t hurt you or yell at you for asking.”

 

This seems to comfort Credence because he’s relaxing, shoulders dropping from where they were hovering around his ears. His eyes are closed as he presses back against Percy’s forehead, breath warm and soft against his lips as he breathes just a little unsteadily. 

 

“I want you to kiss me.”

 

Pride shoots through Percy at this, because he knows it was difficult for Credence to ask, to reveal what it is he wants, what he desires. In reward he slips his thumb below Credence’s chin and turns it up just a fraction so he can brush his lips over soft pink ones and feel it when Credence shudders against him.

 

“Of course I’ll kiss you Credence, of course.” 

 

With a gentle hand at his lower back, he guides Credence into him, pressing his hips into his own and holding him there as he brushes the lightest of kisses over those fulls lips, over and over again until Credence is moaning softly, such sweet sounds that it makes Percy ache to hear more. 

 

He has visions of Credence, in his bed, spread out beneath him making soft whining noises, desperate and flushed and it’s almost too much to think about right now, no, it’s  _ definitely _ too much, because if their last kiss was Credence’s first with a man, there’s much  _ much _ more that he hasn’t yet done and Percy isn’t going to take advantage of his youth and inexperience, no matter how tempting it might be. 

 

So instead of lingering on those thoughts, he focuses on the here and now. His hand at Credence’s lower back shifts, tugs his button down out of his pants so his hand can slip beneath, and immediately still when Credence gasps and pulls back, eyes wide with panic, breaths too fast and sharp. 

 

He knows immediately that he’s done something wrong and pulls his hand back, the other cupping the back of Credence’s neck gently so he can run his thumb over his throat reassuringly. “I’m sorry sweetheart, do you not want me to touch you there?” he asks gently, making soft noises of comfort when Credence ducks his chin and shakes his head, sniffling softly. 

 

“Do you want to tell me why?” he asks, “You don’t have to, I won’t be upset if you don’t” he reassures the boy when he stiffens further and steps back an inch. Percy carefully lets his hands slip from Credence’s skin, feeling the loss acutely. 

 

Credence shuffles his feet and wraps his arms around himself, looking deeply uncertain and afraid, but Percy doesn’t move to comfort him with touch--Credence needs his space to decide without Percy’s input and sway over his decision. A few long minutes pass before Credence looks up, tears bright in his eyes and shakes his head. 

 

“Can I tell you a little bit, not everything?”

 

“Of course sweetheart, of course. Whatever you’re comfortable with,” he murmurs, smiling softly, warmly. It must be what Credence needed to hear because a moment later he’s stepping close again and lifting his hands, flipping them over so Percy can see...scars. They crisscross the flesh in a way that’s far too deliberate to be anything but abuse. 

 

White hot rage flares in his gut, makes it hard to breathe for a minute before he gathers his control and nods minutely. “May I?” he asks quietly, lifting his own hands till they’re just a whisper from Credence’s skin, only proceeding when the younger man nods hesitantly. 

 

He’s careful and gentle, cupping the backs of Credence’s hands and lifting so he can see the marks clearer. They’re all old--though some are pink enough to indicate they happened within a year or so, deep and painful from the looks of it. His thumb traces the marks slowly, “Someone at the church?” he guesses, gaze flickering up to Credence’s face.

 

A flurry of emotions riot on his face before he nods, barely meeting Percy’s gaze before it’s flickering away again. “My--Mary Lou,” he corrects, and Percy realizes in a moment of pure horror that Mary Lou was his mother, that she did this to him, and it takes every inch of his self control not to swear or react violently, because he knows, that’s the worst possible way to handle this. 

 

Instead, he nods slowly, “Did she hurt anyone else?” he asks, already knowing the answer. 

 

“I...mostly me. I was...she found many faults in me,” Credence murmurs. “If the younger ones got in trouble I would take the blame. They were too little,” he explains fervently, eyes begging for understanding as he searches Percy’s face. “They didn’t know better.”

 

“And you did?” 

 

Credence’s head nods fervently, “I knew what set her off, what not to say, how not to act. But they, they were just kids.”

 

He wants to say  _ so were you _ or  _ you didn’t have to do that _ , but it won’t help Credence, and in the end, it might hurt him, and there’s no way Percy is going to do that, so he just shakes his head and draws Credence’s hands up so he can place first one kiss and then another to the scarred palms. 

 

“You’re so good Credence, you’re such a beautiful sweet boy,” he whispers, lifting his gaze as he presses more kisses to the scars and finds the boy crying silently, adoration shining from his eyes. “So strong, and brave and beautiful,” he continues, lips moving over the meat of his palm towards his wrist, “You’re a survivor, a warrior, and so, so talented.” 

 

He can feel Credence’s heartbeat beneath his lips, hear the soft, shuddery inhalation as his mouth brushes against that tender skin before he leans upright to meet that teary gaze and smile with all the affection in his heart. “You are a miracle Credence,” he whispers, still holding his hands and is momentarily stunned when the boy crashes into him, hands pulling from his to tug at his jacket as his lips smash into Percy’s, uncoordinated and unpracticed, but so full of need it hardly matters.

 

He kisses the boy back, head spinning as Credence moans and clutches him tighter, a giddy laugh dying in his throat as the younger man pushes his hips forward, seeking stimulation. Credence’s mouth is hungry, his breaths coming in gasps when Percy pulls back to let him breathe and focus his attention on that swan like neck. 

 

With each mark he leaves Credence grows noisier, gasps breathy and high pitched, his need obvious. When Percy slides his hands down Credence’s sides and grabs onto his full bottom, Credence groans and buries his head in Percy’s throat, gasping as he’s lifted up and onto the counter. 

 

Percy steps between his thighs, hands on those thin hips pulling Credence closer. His lips work at the milky skin of his throat as his hands undo the first few buttons of his shirt so he can get to the delicate collar bones beneath. Credence writhes and moans as Percy laps his tongue against the hollow of his throat, traces the delicate lines of his bones, nips and sucks marks onto the skin until he has a string of them around his throat like a necklace. 

 

“You look so pretty with my marks on you baby,” he whispers into Credence’s ear as he palms the back of his head and tilts it back, the weight of Credence trusting him settling onto his shoulders, “you taste like the rain,” he murmurs, sucking a new mark into the sensitive skin just below his ear. 

 

Credence is making soft whimpering noises, little  _ ah ah ah _ ’s at Percy whispers and kisses and touches, the boy’s chest heaving as Percy strokes a hand down its flat plane, then back up. He can feel Credence is hard, pressed against his own aching arousal, and the kid must not even realize he’s rolling his hips into Percy’s, but Percy feels it and has the foresight to slow down a moment, check that  _ that’s _ what the kid wants. 

 

Credence whines as Percy pulls back and makes soft hushing noises and encourages him to open his eyes, a steadying hand on his cheek so that when those depthless inky pools find his gaze he can smile softly, reassuringly. His hand at the thin hip slides down to his thigh, his thumb just caressing the seam along the inside and Credence shivers,  _ oh _ , he whispers, eyes glazed with desire. 

 

“Is this what you want baby?” Percy asks, voice low and rough with his own desire, lips tingling and bruised from their kisses. 

 

Credence looks out of it for a moment but then nods, unevenly but firmly. “Y-yea, p-please,” he whispers. 

 

Percy studies him for a moment before nodding slowly, “Do you want to sit in my lap?” he offers, smiling when Credence nods fervently, arching towards him hungrily, his hands wrapping around Percy’s neck and pulling him closer so he can press clumsy, lust dazed kisses to his lips. Percy smiles into the embrace, happier than he’s felt in...so long. 

 

He lifts Credence and ignores the protest in his spine as he carries the boy to the couch, sitting down heavily but keeping Credence in his lap, his knees on either side of Percy’s hips and,  _ oh god, _ he can feel the thick line of Credence’s arousal pressing into his stomach and its...he swallows hard because it  _ feels _ large, and he’d probably die if Credence let him see it, but he  _ really  _ wants to. 

 

Credence kisses him fervently, hips resuming their rocking so Percy grabs onto them and guides his motions, his own breath stuttering when they find a rhythm that has their cocks sliding and pressing together. He gasps against Credence’s throat, his kisses sloppier now as he goes back over the marks he had already left, deepening them with his teeth now. 

 

_ Ah ah ah! _

 

Credence’s voice is loud and high pitched, needy as he rocks into Percy, and Percy can’t help his own moans of pleasure, body buzzing with arousal and amazement that he has a lap full of moaning, aroused,  _ beautiful _ Credence. The pink tinge to the boy’s cheeks is so, so lovely and he’s right, it  _ does _ stretch down onto that thin chest, he can see it spreading below those delicate collar bones. 

 

“Please! Oh please, Detective Graves!”

 

He laughs a little and kisses along Credence’s jaw, “Just Percy sweetheart,” he reminds the boy, “what do you need?” he encourages, one hand still guiding those hips, his own grinding back up into the movement slowly. When Credence does nothing but moan and shake his head, Percy slides his hand up to cover his throat, thumb reaching up to press against his lips, trying to get his attention, but Credence opens his lips and draws the appendage in, tongue flicking against the rough pad and Percy...he’s absolutely lost. 

 

“Christ Credence, you’re killing me,” he gasps, staring up at the young man as he rides him, moaning and sucking on Percy’s thumb, desperation in his eyes. “What do you need baby, come on, tell me,” he croons and Credence whines, pulls back so his thumb slides out and gasps for air for a moment before he answers. 

 

“Touch me? Please, I’ll be good, I need,  _ please _ ,” he whimpers, leaning down to kiss Percy fervently, tongue tangling as his fingers rake through Percy’s hair, mussing the style he’d set this morning. Nails scrape his scalp, sending shivers over his skin and between kisses, the kid is still begging, hips rolling relentlessly. 

 

“Ok baby, I got you,” he agrees between breaths, one hand sliding up Credence’s thigh to cup his erection through the rough fabric of his jeans, squeezing gently. Credence yelps and shudders, eyes fluttering as he falls back from Percy’s lips, chest heaving with his ragged gasps. 

 

“N-not like that,” he whines, nearly growling in frustration when Percy slides his hand away. His eyes are dark when they meet Percy’s and to his shock, Credence grabs his hand and guides it under his untucked shirt and the waistband of his jeans. “Here,” he begs, “please, Percy,  _ please _ .”

 

If he were a better man, he’d say no. 

 

Hell, if he were a better man, he wouldn’t be here in the first place, but, he’s  _ not _ , so….

 

“Okay sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he murmurs, unbuttoning the jeans and sliding down the zipper, the rasp of the teeth loud in the room as Credence whines and bucks his hips forward. The angle isn’t great, and it takes some maneuvering till his jeans are down his thighs a little further and then Percy has a hand on his cock and, he shakes a little, because it’s long and thick and  _ gorgeous _ . 

 

He thinks that it’s the most goddamn beautiful cock he’s ever seen and promptly tells Credence the same, laughing a little when the kid blushes even deeper and leans forward to bury his face against his neck. Percy rubs a hand over his back and traces the vein on the underside of his cock, slow and teasingly so that he can feel it twitch in his hand and feel Credence’s stuttering breath against his neck. 

 

He keeps his touches light for now, just letting Credence get used to someone’s hand on him, and when Credence is whining and thrusting his hips, trying to get more stimulation, he tightens his grip and strokes, pleasure shuddering through him at the way Credence cries out, hips bucking. Guiding him up and away from his shoulder, he holds Credence steady, watching his face as he strokes slowly over his cock. 

 

He had worried he’d need lube, but the kid has been leaking into his jeans for some time it seems, because his skin is slick and the sound of it in the room next to their gasping breaths and moans seems loud, lewd. 

 

He’s achingly hard in his own jeans, but he’s not going to do anything about it yet, not when he’s struggling to pick his favorite view; Credence’s face, pinched in pleasure, or his cock, flushed a deep red, twitching and leaking in his hand. 

 

_ Both _ , he decides, both are now his favorite thing. 

 

Screw Monet and Van Gogh, the Eiffel Tower at night...this,  _ this _ is surely the most beautiful work of art in all the world. 

 

He almost scoffs at his own romantic notions, but he’s far too enraptured to care. His hand pumps faster on Credence’s cock, the slick sound of his palm against the wet skin growing louder, harsher. Credence is damn near sobbing, hands fisted in Percy’s jacket as he bucks his hips into the touch, eyes screwed shut as he throws his head back, gasping for air. 

 

“You gonna cum sweetheart? Huh? You close?” he croons, rubbing his thumb over the weeping head of his cock just so he can hear Credence cry out, whimpering and gasping. His sounds fill the apartment; punched out gasps of Percy’s name and  _ ah ah ah’s  _ that are high pitched and needy, and in between all of that,  _ Please Percy Please _ . 

 

He begs and pleads and Percy gives him everything he can, all the pleasure he can muster, because this,  _ this _ is the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. Credence’s spine arches and he cries out Percy’s name, a broken shrill thing that makes heat shiver up his spine and to his amazement he feels his balls drawing up and his cock twitching in his jeans. 

 

He’s close to coming and he hasn’t even managed to get a hand on his own cock, but the sight of Credence writhing and moaning in his lap and the feel of his cock leaking in his hand is seemingly more than enough to get him off. 

 

It’s a first for Percy, being this aroused by the sight of his partner’s passion. He’s always enjoyed watching his lovers get off, but never has it affected him like this. It’s just another thing about Credence that amazes him, makes him want to worship every inch of his lithe body until they’re both so overwhelmed they can’t move. 

 

When the kid comes he does it with a sharp cry, almost a scream, and then he’s silent, mouth open as he gasps for air like he’s just run a marathon, his cock spurting out over Percy’s hand and onto his creamy thighs. Percy groans at the sight and flinches when his own cock twitches and throbs in his jeans, wetness spilling over his thigh in steady pulses as he strokes Credence’s cock slower and slower.

 

When Credence whines at the touch, he finally removes his hand, covered in cum, but deeply satisfied. Credence sways into him, nuzzling his face into Percy’s sweaty throat and pressing weak kisses there. The white noise in his ears clears slowly and when it does he can hear Credence murmuring something against his skin. 

 

“Thank you, thank you, Percy, god, thank you.”

 

He caresses the thin back with his free hand and tilts his chin so he can press a kiss to Credence’s sweaty hair, “Of course baby, just for you.”

 

When the cum on his hand starts to get tacky, he regretfully nudges Credence back, smiling fondly at the sleepy look the younger man gives him, confused and a little worried. “I’m not going anywhere, just need to get a cloth and clean up,” he murmurs, grinning a little when a flush renews on that pale skin. 

 

Credence seems unhappy to move off his lap, but Percy just presses a kiss to his full, red lips and promises to be back right away, and he is, mere minutes later, wet washcloth in hand. He crouches in front of Credence and carefully wipes off his cock and stomach, tucks him back into his boxers and tosses the cloth into the laundry basket that Credence points out. 

 

He’d noticed that there were two small twin beds in the bedroom and wondered if Credence and his sister shared one room. When he asks, Credence nods tiredly, “Most nights I’m on the couch because I get back so late. Momo needs her sleep, she’s still in school,” he explains, taking Percy’s hand as he guides him into the bedroom. 

 

He looks at Percy through his eyelashes and it’s so sweet and beguiling that he just has to lean in and kiss him, one hand on his waist, the other laced together with Credence’s. 

 

“You’ll stay?” Credence whispers uncertainly, brows knitted together as he peers at Percy. 

 

“Course sweetheart. As long as you want me here, I’m here,” he promises. 

 

At this Credence’s eyes light up and he’s leaning in to kiss Percy again, soft and sweet and he thinks for a heady moment that the boy tastes like burnt sugar. When Credence pulls away he licks his lips, grinning when a flush rises on those cheeks once more. “You taste good baby,” he whispers, “Though next time I want to taste your cum,” he says as he lifts Credence’s hand twined with his so he can brush his lips against the knuckles. 

 

“Percy!” Credence exclaims, eyes wide as he blushes and looks askance, gaze flickering back rapidly and Percy can see that though he’s embarrassed, he’s also intrigued, aroused. “That’s...that’s…”

 

“Dirty?” Percy suggests with a wink, laughing softly when Credence only nods and slips away towards the small closet outside the bathroom. 

 

Here Credence pauses, hands on his stomach, gaze wary. “I...can you--”

 

Percy nods and turns away, undressing himself as he listens to Credence strip, and there’s something oddly intimate about it. When he’s down to his briefs and his socks, he steps over to the window, watching as rain continues to fall outside, the sky a murky purple from the light pollution. It’s sad, not being able to see the stars, and he tries to remember when the last time was that he looked up and saw more than airplanes flying overhead.

 

_ You can’t wish on airplanes _ , he remembers his mother telling him,  _ just stars. _ She’d point out the constellations overhead, teaching him the names and stories as they lay together on a blanket in the backyard. The sky had always been clearer at the manor, so far removed from the city that the bright lights seemed like a distant point of light—another star on the horizon.

 

“Percy?”

 

He turns and smiles softly; Credence is in Percy’s undershirt and a pair of flannel pants, his bare toes peeking out from under the hems and he looks...sweet, soft and utterly delicious. He’s across the room before he knows what he’s doing, gathering the boy into his arms for another kiss,  _ just one more _ he assures himself, because at some point, they have to go to sleep. 

 

Credence is soft and pliable in his arms, humming quietly in delight as Percy’s hands flatten out against his spine. “You look lovely in my shirt,” he murmurs, lips brushing against Credence’s over and over. “I think I like it better on you,” he tells him, “just like my jacket.”

 

“Oh! I meant to give that back,” Credence whispers breathlessly, eyes sparkling when Percy pulls back a little to shake his head at him fondly. 

 

“No, keep it. It looks good and I like thinking of you wearing it.”

 

Credence flushes a little and Percy chuckles, lays his hands on Credence’s thin hips and guides him back onto the twin bed that’s adorned in rich blue sheets and a quilt that’s a steely grey, much like a stormy sky. They slide beneath the covers together, laughing at how small the bed is, but in the end Percy doesn’t mind because it means Credence is pressed against him, legs tangling together and it’s far too small for either of them, but in the end it doesn’t prevent them from falling asleep. 

 

It’s nice, the closeness. 

 

It’s something he hasn’t had in a very long time—physical and emotional intimacy. He holds Credence as the boy whispers about music and the rain and how he loves walking in the parks for inspiration until his voice slowly grows hoarse and his eyes can’t stay open and then he’s soft and warm in Percy’s arms and his heart aches a little with how happy he is. 

 

Inhaling slowly, he breathes in the scent of Credence’s hair; rich and warm and it’s with a smile that he falls asleep, arms and heart full. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The coat Percy buys credence can be found here: https://us.loropiana.com/en/p/Men/Coats-&-Trench/Double-FAF9050?colorCode=WE24


	4. Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’ve got some more Momo/Credence in this chapter, plus some composition and discussion of scars. 
> 
> Songs for this chapter are by Ludovico Einaudi: Fly, Bella Notte and Primavera.

Credence wakes the next morning to an empty bed but with the tantalizing scent of bacon teasing him awake and before he’s fully aware, he’s stumbling into the kitchen and staring at the sight before him. 

 

Percy is at his stove, jeans slung low on his hips, chest bare as he scrambles eggs and hums to himself. The strong planes of his back and shoulders are evident now that he’s in the light without his shirt and the sight is enough to leave his mouth dry and have heat curling between his legs, but he pauses when he sees scars marking his skin. 

 

They’re not as bad as Credence’s, but they are surprising, worrying. He pads over on bare feet to inspect them a little closer, and Percy must hear him approaching because the smile he shoots over his shoulder makes Credence stumble a little and flush. 

 

“Good morning sweetheart,” he murmurs, smiling when Credence shuffles up behind him and leans in to press his chin to Percy’s shoulder. “Can I have a kiss?” he asks softly, making a small discontented noise when Credence shakes his head. “Why not?”

 

“Haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” he replies, cheeks flushing as the older man chuckles. 

 

Percy’s dark eyes are warm as he glances back at Credence, “I don’t mind, c’mere,” he whispers, half turning so he can slip a hand around Credence’s jaw, holding him gently as he leans in for a kiss. 

 

Lightning fast indecision sweeps through Credence before he leans into the embrace, sighing happily when Percy nips at his lower lip gently and then presses quick, firm kisses to his lips before he finally pulls away. 

 

Pleasure and contentment twine through him like a flower, wrapping around his spine, the blooms bright and colorful under his skin and around his heart. He pulls away from Percy, fingers twitching with the need to play and sinks down at the piano, barely aware of the older man’s gaze on him. 

 

Fingers trailing over the keys slowly, he closes his eyes and begins to play, the song delicate and free, mimicking the lighthearted emotion filling him. He recalls every touch and kiss and sound from last night with technicolor precision, shivering a little as he pours that arousal and need forth onto the keys, heart beating faster. 

 

He had felt like he could fly, with Percy’s hands and lips on him. The dirty things that Percy had whispered in his ear make his gut clench with need as he recalls them, fingers flying over the keys. 

 

He wants  _ more _ , more kisses, more touches, more soft words and affectionate nicknames. The song becomes yearning and slow as he pictures a time when Percy might be  _ his _ , might say...something, something about love—and the very thought of the word scares him, makes his heart feel like it has leapt off a cliff, sinking fast but thrilled by the notion that it might just sprout wings and  _ fly _ .

 

As his fingers slow and the song fades away, he opens his eyes and to find Oscar sitting on the piano, tail lazily flicking side to side. Grinning, he reaches up to tap his nose, laughing softly at the affronted look Oscar gives him before hopping down and sauntering to the kitchen. 

 

Percy laughs as the kitten stands on two legs, long lean frame stretched out towards the plate of bacon, begging in sweet chirpy meows that always steal Credence’s resolve. 

 

Smiling softly, Credence rises and leans on the counter, “You can give him a piece,” he tells Percy with an encouraging nod. His grin grows as the older man breaks off a piece of bacon and hand feeds it to Oscar, murmuring praise to the kitten. 

 

He’s still smiling when Percy turns with plates full of food and sets them on the counter, his shoulder nudging Credence’s as he takes a seat beside him. They eat in relative silence, shooing Oscar away when he climbs onto the counter to try and steal bacon, and over time Credence realizes that they’re leaning into each other, the whole of his right side presses into Percy’s left. 

 

It makes him warm, realizing that they’re together, like a real couple, and for a moment, just a splinter of time, he can see everything that comes next; kisses, hugs,  _ sex _ , professions of love, a lifetime together before old age comes for them, and then, suddenly, he’s back, sitting here with the man he...what? Loves? 

 

It can’t be, not after so little time.

 

But he does care about Percy, quite deeply too. He wants to know where those scars came from, what his mother was like, what his favorite food is, when his birthday is...so  _ many  _ things that a one night stand isn’t allowed to know, but then, he  _ isn’t _ a one night stand, he’s...something else.

 

“Where did your scars come from?”

 

He doesn’t realize he’s asked it until Percy goes still at his side and the silence twists in his gut like a knife. 

 

“I-I’m sorry, never mind,” he murmurs hastily, flushed crimson with embarrassment. He hastens off his stool and carries his plate to the sink, too upset to turn around and see what Percy looks like, how he’s reacting. 

 

“Most of them are from the job.”

 

The answer and the deep sigh that goes with it startle him, and he turns around slowly, gaze lifting to find Percy staring down at his hands, pressed flat against the counter. He doesn’t look mad or offended, so Credence thinks maybe it would be okay if he gets closer. 

 

When he’s standing next to Percy again, he can lay a hand on his back, fingers tracing a scar on his shoulder, then another along his ribs, and still more over his stomach. 

 

“Those…” 

 

Percy sighs heavily and shakes his head, “Those are from someone we both know. He killed my partner and cut me up before we got him.”

 

_ Grindelwald  _

 

It’s unsaid, but loud in the silence between them. 

 

He doesn’t want that man to poison this moment though, so he trails his fingers up Percy’s ribs slower, more deliberately and bites his lip when the older man shivers, turning dark eyes on him with a wry smirk. 

 

“Trying to find out if I’m ticklish?” 

 

Credence shakes his head and steps closer, trailing his hand over Percy’s taut stomach, feeling the way the muscle ripples beneath his touch and it makes him hunger to see what it feels like against his lips. 

 

“Are you?” he asks, leaning in to kiss the sharp line of Percy’s jaw, and with his hand still on his stomach, he can feel the shivery breath that the older man lets out at the touch. 

 

“Am I what?”

 

“Ticklish,” he murmurs, smiling against Percy’s throat as he mouths along the stubble that’s appeared, relishing in the way it burns his lips oh so nicely. He wonders then, what it would feel like in the inside of his thighs and his face goes hot, a flare of lust making him weak in the knees.

 

“Not really, no.”

 

He only hums in response, nuzzling a little further up towards his chin and he can smell the bacon and coffee on Percy’s breath but it’s not unpleasant, it just  _ is.  _

 

A sudden thought stills him. “Where did the breakfast come from?” he asks, pulling back to peer at Percy curiously. 

 

The older man looks dazed for a moment and then shakes his head, lifting his gaze to meet Credence’s. “Delivery. You didn’t have the stuff I needed to do breakfast in bed,” he explains. 

 

He almost opens his mouth to apologize but Percy must see it on his face because he shakes his head and grabs Credence’s hand where it’s resting on his shoulder and brings it down to press his lips to the knuckles, “Don’t apologize,” he murmurs, “I wanted to do this for you and I just want you to be happy, ok?”

 

Credence can’t really speak because no one has ever thought of doing something so nice for him. He had suffered through a lifetime of stale bread and cold oatmeal and though Momo had made him pancakes for his birthday the past two years, it’s a little hard for him to believe that someone outside of the two of them wants to do something so genuinely kind for him. 

 

It makes his heart lurch and he can’t quite express all of his emotions into words so instead he leans down and kisses Percy, hands cupping the back his neck so his fingertips can stroke the soft hairs at the nape while his thumbs sweep the sharp planes of his cheeks and his tongue flicks out to tease Percy’s.

 

The older man hums in surprise and then leans into the embrace, hands reaching to span his hips, pulling him closer as he turns on his seat and opens his legs. Credence loses himself in the gentle press of lips and the heady sensation of Percy’s tongue on his, the sharp pleasure of teeth on his lower lip making him sigh in delight and melt into Percy. 

 

“Cree?”

 

He hadn’t heard the front door opening but he hears Momo clearly and steps back, wide eyed and panting a little, panic slicing through him. What will his sister think? Old self loathing rises up and he can hear the cruel taunts of his mother echoing in his head and—

 

“Uh, hi? Who are you and what are you doing in our kitchen?”

 

The curious but sharp question yanks him from his spiral, and he looks up to find Momo standing there, gazing inquisitively between he and Percy, a smirk forming on her lips as she draws her own conclusions.

 

Clearing his throat, Credence steps forward, “This is my f-friend from the other night Momo, this is Detective Percival Graves,” he tells her, waving a hand toward the older man. 

 

Her brows rise at that and she casts a pointed look at Percy’s bare chest, “Right, well, welcome, Detective Percival Graves,” she murmurs wryly, smirking as she steps forward to offer her hand.

 

Percy stands from the stool and takes the offered hand, smiling back just as wryly, “Nice to meet you too kid, though Percy is just fine with me, no need for the title unless you’re getting in trouble,” he jokes. 

 

Credence is...a little stunned. Momo laughs and grins at him over Percy’s shoulder, “I like your  _ friend _ even if he isn’t wearing a shirt,” she tells him, giggling when Credence chokes and turns bright red. 

 

She eyes the bacon and eggs on Percy’s plate and grins, “Any left for me?”

 

To Credence’s surprise, Percy nods and waves toward the stove, “Left a plate for you in the oven. Figured you’d be back sometime soon and wanna eat,” he explains. 

 

While Momo grins and goes to get the plate, Percy turns to Credence, smiling softly as he steps closer and offers a hand. Credence isn’t sure what he wants him to do with it, but he reaches out anyway and slips his fingers through Percy’s, the touch steadying him. 

 

Percy smiles warmly and squeezes his hand, “Come on,” he encourages softly, leading Credence back to his seat and laying a hand gently on his back, ushers him into the spot he had just been occupying. 

 

He barely notices when Percy presses a kiss to his hair, lightning quick, before he slips from the room, leaving him in the silence with a very amused looking Momo. 

 

“So….are you sleeping with him?”

 

“Modesty!”

 

“ _ What?  _ It’s a valid question!”

 

“I...it’s none of your business!”

 

“Your happiness  _ is  _ my business! You’re my brother and if he hurts you I’ll hunt him down and break his kneecaps with my field hockey stick!”

 

“ _ Modesty! _ ”

 

A laugh interrupts them and he cranes around to find Percy laughing as he tugs his tie around his neck, fiddling with it as he approaches the arguing siblings. 

 

“I promise I have no intention of hurting your brother Modesty. I care about him a great deal and you have my word that if I do ever hurt him, I’d very much appreciate you coming and beating some sense into me.”

 

Modesty studies Percy for a moment before laughing brightly, head thrown back in delight and even through his embarrassment and annoyance, Credence can’t help but smile at the sight. A few years ago she would barely smile, and now she’s laughing at a joke from a man she doesn’t even really know. 

 

Once more he’s so,  _ so _ grateful to Miss Tina for encouraging him to leave, for helping him see that what was happening to him and Momo wasn’t his fault, that they  _ could _ escape. 

 

“You got it Detective Muscles,” Momo declares, ignoring Credence’s hiss of her name as she dances out of the room with her plate of breakfast.

 

Burying his face in his hands, Credence wonders idly if the floor might just open up beneath him and swallow him so he doesn’t have to face the smirk he knows is on Percy’s face. 

 

“I like her,” he hears, and when he glances to the side he can see the fabric of Percy’s shirt close by, his large hands moving to adjust his tie as he speaks. “She’s funny.”

 

Credence looks up at him in surprise; he knows how funny Momo can be, but her dry sense of humor hadn’t won her a lot of friends from the church before they left and Mary Lou had tried her hardest to beat it from the young girl. 

 

“She is,” he agrees softly, a smile teasing at his lips as he watches Percy tug at the knot of his tie before reaching for his coffee and taking a long sip. His eyes are warm and smiling behind the rim of his mug and it makes Credence’s skin feel too small, filled with an aching desire for his lips and hands. 

 

“Walk me to the door?” Percy asks softly, hopefully, and of course he will, because he wants to soak up every last second with Percy, to let the feeling and memory sink into him until it’s a part of him, the very marrow of his bones. 

 

Percy casts a glance over Credence’s shoulder toward the bedroom and seemingly assured of their privacy (for the moment at least) he smiles slowly, hands slipping around Credence’s hips so he can pull him closer and press fleeting kisses to his lips. 

 

“I had a wonderful time last night Credence. I...I hope you’ll want to see me again,” he murmurs hesitantly, and it absolutely baffles Credence because  _ yes _ ,  _ of course _ he wants to see Percy again. 

 

He wants to see him again and again, wants his days and nights filled with kisses and laughter, music and stories, breakfasts and dinners and everything in between until it’s all just... _ them. _

 

“I want to see you again,” he whispers back, peering earnestly into Percy’s eyes, “I want  _ you _ ,” he confides, hope filling him until he feels like he’ll explode with it. 

 

Some strange light fills Percy’s eyes and he watches as they close for a long moment before they open again, bright and blinking fast to hold back what looks like tears and then Percy is kissing him and whispering, “I want you too Credence. God, I wish I could stay.”

 

He doesn’t say anything to that, just clings to Percy until the kisses slow and the older man pulls back to smile at him hesitantly.

 

“I hate to ask this, but, would you consider talking to the District Attorney about what you know? I’m sorry, I wouldn’t ask and I don’t want to hurt you or see you get hurt, but, Credence I think what you know will put them all in jail. Forever.”

 

Credence stares at him, dumbstruck for a moment as the implications of that sink in. He can put Grindelwald away, stop Mary Lou from abusing the children, help Percy end the violence and hate that the church has used to keep a stranglehold on the children and acolytes.

 

His heart beats so fast it hurts and he doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he sees the slightly stunned look on Percy’s face and the laugh inside of him bubbles out, joyous and bright and then he’s kissing Percy and he feels practically buoyant here in his arms.

 

He could get used to this he thinks; breakfast and kisses and affection and it makes his belly flutter with delight. He’s warm and pliant in Percy’s arms, arching into every kiss and touch until his blood feels syrupy and warm, languid desire simmering beneath the surface. 

 

Eventually though Percy pulls back, looking a little dazed, his face soft and open, filled with affection. Credence leans into the touch when Percy cups his jaw, thumb sweeping over the sharp angle of his cheek. 

 

“I have to go sweetheart. I’ll contact you later about meeting with the District Attorney, okay?”

 

Credence  _ really  _ doesn’t want him to go, but he knows Percy has important things to do, so instead of pleading with him to stay, he nods slowly and then turns his head, gaze still on Percy as he presses his lips to the palm cupping his jaw. 

 

He can hear it when Percy’s breath stutters and for a moment he thinks the older man is going to kiss him again, but then he’s pulling back and giving him a wry smile, “Get some rest before your shift,” he admonishes as he pulls on his coat, his leather jacket still hanging conspicuously on the rack by the front door. 

 

“Bye Detective Muscles!”

 

Credence flushes and Percy laughs loudly, eyes crinkling around the edges and Credence feels his heart skip a beat at how unfairly handsome he is when he’s laughing and smiling. 

 

“Bye Momo!”

 

Percy’s eyes dance with delight when he steps out into the hallway and Credence can’t help but follow him, pausing when he notices three packages leaning against the wall by his door, his name emblazoned on all of them. 

 

Frowning, he crouches down and inspects then, sure that they must be a mistake. 

 

“I didn’t order these,” he tells Percy, glancing up at the older man over his shoulder. 

 

Percy lifts a brow and then nods, “I bought them for you.”

 

He’s stunned silent for a moment because he doesn’t know what to do or say, all he knows is that it’s too much—breakfast and groceries and now whatever these are—it’s too much and he has no way to repay Percy. 

 

“I can’t take them, you shouldn’t have, I mean…” he huffs, rising to his feet to face Percy, his hands clenching and unclenching with nerves. “It’s too much,” he murmurs, heart pounding in his chest. 

 

“Why?”

 

He looks up, startled and mouth half open before he realizes he doesn’t have an answer prepared. 

 

Percy smiles softly and reaches out to wind his fingers through Credence’s, pulling him closer so their chests are very nearly touching and he can smell Percy’s skin. 

 

“I bought you these things because you need them. I’ll get you whatever you need, whenever you need it, no questions asked because, Credence, I want to take care of you. I want you to have food in the fridge and a coat to keep you warm and whatever you need to take care of Momo.”

 

He studies Credence for a moment and his face softens with wariness, “Will you let me do that Credence? Can I take care of you?”

 

_ Can I take care of you? _

 

No one has ever asked him that before. No one has ever  _ wanted _ to do anything like this for him, and it’s scary, this letting go so someone else can catch him, carry him and it makes his heart squeeze at the idea that Percy wants to be that someone. 

 

Nodding slowly, he smiles faintly and ducks his head, “I’d like that,” he admits hoarsely, peering back up at Percy through his lashes. 

 

He’s eyeing him just longingly enough that Percy notices and smiles softly before he’s reaching out and tugging Credence closer with a hand at the nape of his neck so he can kiss him. 

 

It’s slow and sweet this time, less of a  _ goodbye  _ and more of  _ I’ll see you soon _ and for some reason that makes all the difference to Credence’s heart. 

 

“We’ll see each other soon,” Percy promises, lips brushing against Credence’s with each word before he steps back and his fingers trail across Credence’s throat before he’s walking away and pausing at the top of the stairs to glance back and wink. 

 

Heart fluttering, Credence leans against the doorframe, breathless and so happy he can’t stop smiling. 

 

* * *

 

 

Foot tapping nervously against the stained tiled flooring, Credence keeps his head ducked low as he waits for Percy, the flow of humanity loud in the small entryway to the police station. Some people are shouting their innocence as bored looking officers walk them, handcuffed, to be processed. 

 

Others look like folks waiting for bad news; faces pinched and lips white from pressing together so tightly. He wonders what he looks like, hunched over and trying to draw as little attention to himself as possible. 

 

“Credence?”

 

He looks up at his name and surprise flits through him. “Miss Tina!” he exclaims excitedly, rising to his feet to smile at her and offer his hand. She looks surprised for a moment before grinning and taking it, her hand smaller, but no less rough than his own and it makes him instantly at ease. 

 

He had forgotten what a kind woman she was, but as they walk through the chaos it feels like her presence is a bubble, keeping the rest of the world at bay as she asks him how he’s been, how his sister is, how the piano is going, until she’s ushering him into an office and he’s coming to a sudden halt at the sight of Percy, seated behind his desk and so  _ so  _ handsome.

 

He doesn’t know what to do now he realizes. If it was just them he might go over and lean down for a kiss, but there’s a few other people in the room and he’s not going to reveal their relationship unless Percy says it’s ok. 

 

Percy’s gaze flickers over him and his skin flushes at the pleased look that crosses his face. Credence had unpacked the boxes to find new sneakers, a coat in the most beautiful blue he’s ever seen, and a scarf and gloves made of the softest material he’s ever felt. 

 

When he had put it all on he had stood, staring at his reflection, struggling with how good he looked and trying to decide if it was a sin to be so vain, but then, he had decided that if it made Percy happy, it wasn’t vanity. 

 

He sheds the jacket as a woman with tawny skin and a crimson head scarf covering her hair rises elegantly from the seat across from Percy, offering her hand as she smiles gently, “Credence, it’s very nice to meet you. I’m Captain Seraphina Picquery, but you can just call me Sera,” she tells him politely.

 

He nods and murmurs back a polite greeting before a middle aged man with handsome features and a neatly trimmed beard too rises to his feet and offers his hand, “Credence, I’ve heard wonderful things,” he says, smiling brightly. “I’m District Attorney Albus Dumbledore, but like Sera, you can call me Albus.”

 

By the time they’re done with introductions and he’s given a seat to the side, there’s a woman with shimmering gold locks nudging the door open with a bright smile and a tray of baked goods and mugs. 

 

When Credence rises to help her she smiles winningly at him and laughs, the sound like tinkling china. “Well aren’t you just the sweetest,” she croons, “Tina said you was a nice young man. You want coffee, tea or hot cocoa honey?

 

Flushing a little Credence hastily asks for tea and grateful accepts the mug she hands to him. “You let me know if you need anything Mr. Graves,” she orders, shooting the older man a wink. 

 

“Thank you Queenie, I will,” Percy murmurs, smiling back softly as he gratefully accepts his coffee from the bubbly younger woman. 

 

Everyone else but Albus takes coffee and when the door shuts behind her, there’s a collective pause before Albus speaks. 

 

“Credence, Percy’s told us that you might have some information on the Salemers, is that right? he asks kindly, blue eyes sparkling over the rim of his mug as he sips his tea. 

 

This is it, the moment he’s not sure if he’s been dreading or hoping for; he’ll finally get to tell the truth, and now that it’s here, he can’t seem to make his mouth open and have words come out. He makes a soft noise of frustration and ducks his head, cheeks heating and eyes blurring with embarrassment.

 

Percy must think he’s a fool, a waste of his time, and he feels like he’s gulping air too fast because his stomach hurts and he’s shaking, but he can’t hear anything other than the thundering of his heart in his ears. 

 

Hands cover his own and suddenly Percy’s face is in his line of sight as the older man crouches in front of him, umber eyes warm and concerned as his hands tighten around Credence’s, the sensation anchoring him in what’s real. 

 

Percy’s mouth is moving but Credence can’t hear what he’s saying, the ringing in his ears is too loud, so instead he focuses on the sensation of strong hands holding his, the weight of Percy’s leather jacket around his shoulders and the warm scent of his cologne that makes Credence recall how good it had smelled when he had buried his face in the crook of his neck, gasping from release. 

 

The ringing in his ears must be clearing because distantly, Percy’s voice reaches him.

 

“There you go Credence, just like that sweetheart, deep breaths, yes just like that.”

 

Percy takes one of Credence’s hands and lays it against his chest so he can feel Percy’s heart beating and the slow steady rise and fall of his breathing and he struggles to match it, lungs shaky as he leans into Percy, embarrassment making him want to hide.

 

“That’s it Credence, deep breaths,” Percy encourages, free hand coming up to press against the nape of his neck, lips against Credence’s ear so he can whisper more words of comfort. 

 

“So brave, my sweet boy, I’m so proud.” 

 

Eventually the gentle strokes of Percy’s thumb on the sensitive skin beneath his ear and the whispered praise and encouragement soothes his panic. He avoids the gazes of the others in the room as he sits upright, throat tight as Percy squeezes his hand and carefully withdraws.

 

It takes him a minute to gather his thoughts before he can lift his gaze and meet the carefully bland expression Albus is wearing and ask, “What do you want to know?”

 

And from there it’s one thing after another. He strings it all together; his stories, his history, the truth, until the sun has disappeared from the sky and everyone in the room has a haunted look to their eyes but for the first time in a very long time, Credence feels hopeful. 

 

When everyone else has filtered from the room, Percy leans forward over his desk to offer his hand and Credence doesn’t hesitate to take it, the strength and reassurance in the grip makes him feel like he could do anything, even soar away into the sky on wings made of hopes and dreams. 

 

_ Don’t stray too close to the sun like Icarus _ he thinks as Percy’s thumb rubs over his knuckles. They don’t speak, just sit in the quiet, holding hands and it’s, it’s more perfect than it has any right to be, more comfortable and soothing than he’s ever found someone’s touch to be. 

 

“Do you have to stay?”

 

Percy looks up at him, confused for a moment before Credence waves a hand to indicate his office and realization dawns quickly. “I should, but I’m not going to,” Percy admits, laughing a little, and he looks tired, exhausted by everything he’s just heard and it makes Credence worry—maybe Percy’s going to get sick of him and never want to see him unless it’s about the case. 

 

After all, who would want a boy so broken and damaged as he? 

 

It must show in his face, the direction his thoughts have gone, because Percy makes a soft noise and squeezes his hand, drawing his attention back up. 

 

“Credence, I’m not going to like you any less because of what you told us. I like you more in fact, admire the hell out of you, because you endured something no human should ever have to and you didn’t just survive, you came out the other side and  _ thrived _ . That says so much about your will to live and the strength it took to get here. I-I, shit, I’m amazed by you,” he admits, a fond, awed look in his dark eyes that makes Credence shiver a little. 

 

“Will you come home with me?”

 

It’s out before he can process what he’s just said and when he does he blushes, hopes Percy doesn’t think he’s too forward, but all the older man does is chuckle softly and squeeze his hand and nod. 

 

“Course sweetheart, I’d love that.”

 

“Momo will be there.”

 

“Then I think we should get pizza and watch some movies, don’t you?”

 

And yea, yea he does. 


	5. Time Lapse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re almost at the end guys!! So I just want to note that it’s been two years since Credence left the church and in that time he’s healed and gotten to know himself emotionally and sexually, so he’s less wide eyed about what can happen between two men than he is in other fics! So, some angst, some hurt credence, and some smut. 
> 
> Songs are by ludovico einaudi: Time Lapse, Ancora and Fly

He stays over at Credence’s without even intending to, too full of pizza and laughter to move, and when he wakes up the next morning, there’s a light pressure on his chest that when he opens his eyes, discovers is a small ball of black fur and green eyes. 

 

Smiling sleepily, he rubs between the cat’s ears and dozes, before his alarm on his phone goes off and he has to slip out of the apartment to head back to his for a shower and a hasty cup of coffee. 

 

He texts Credence to let him know he had to go meet with Albus and Sera, and when the kid responds an hour later with a frowny face emoji and a  _ miss you _ , he can’t help the lurch of his heart in his chest. 

 

From there it’s dinner and brunch and short visits over the next two weeks between Credence’s shifts and his own investigations—because though he’s focused on Grindelwald, New York is the city that never sleeps which means someone is always going to wind up dead and needing justice. 

 

They don’t get much time to fool around and he’s sort of glad because he knows Credence isn’t that experienced, and he doesn’t want to rush him—even if he is a damn work of art when he cums—so yea, maybe a little space is okay. 

 

It definitely gives him time to evaluate his own feelings for the kid, and he’s aware enough to know that he’s falling for Credence, and it scares the  _ shit  _ out of him, but at the same time it’s so comfortable and  _ right  _ that it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

 

It’s nothing like it was with Theo. He had known Theo was married, that he had never had a male sexual partner, but the chemistry between them was undeniable and Percy pursued it, pushed through Theo’s moral qualms until they were both too wrapped up in it to get out. 

 

He hadn’t really realized how unhealthy the relationship between he and Theo was until he found some distance and time to really inspect what it was that had bound them together. The answer isn’t pretty; copious alcohol consumption, self loathing and lust, and the fake idealism that comes from the heady rush of a new relationship, especially one kept secret from the rest of the world. 

 

He’s started drinking less and has gone cold turkey on the cigarettes, and it’s driving him fucking  _ crazy _ , the ache for nicotine, but he’s taken up running again and Credence makes him green protein shakes every morning that he stops by after his run and gives him congratulatory blow jobs in the shower when Momo isn’t there and it all feels... _ right.  _

 

For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel that aching loneliness echoing inside him, making him contemplate eating a bullet in his darker drunker moments, and it’s good, so,  _ so _ good. 

 

So really, he should have known it wouldn’t last. 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s interviewing a witness from a murder case when he feels his phone vibrate for the third time in as many minutes so he apologizes and checks it and feels his stomach sink when he sees that it’s Credence—who should be in the middle of a shift at the bodega without any reason to call him and instantly his heart is beating too fast and his stomach is clenching as he mumbles some kind of apology and steps out of the room to answer it.

 

“Credence?”

 

“Can you come to the bodega? Like right now?”

 

His voice is low and rough and he sounds upset, but he’s coherent, so maybe it’s nothing too serious? 

 

“There was...uh..a man...he had a gun…”

 

_ Gun  _

 

_ A man _

 

_ With a gun _

 

He’s in his car before he even realizes it, flipping on the lights and sirens as he tears through the city, the call still connected. 

 

“Are you ok?” he demands, teeth gritted around the scream he wants to unleash, hands too tight on the wheel. 

 

“I...ye...I guess.”

 

“What does that mean? Are you hurt?”

 

“N-no…”

 

“ _ Fuck!” _

 

He pushes the speed limit and climbs up the curb, honking at pedestrians and swearing profusely with every second that he’s not  _ there _ , making sure Credence is ok and his heart is beating so fast he’s a little dizzy and all he can think is  _ oh god what if he’s hurt? _

 

He’s yanking on the wheel and parking outside the bodega and  _ oh god _ , crime scene tape covers the corner and unis are standing around shaking their heads and there’s a fucking ambulance...and  _ fuckfuckfuck _ that’s  _ Credence  _ sitting in the ambulance. 

 

Bile burns in the back of his throat and he barely remembers to throw the car into park before he’s lurching out and sprinting to Credence. He flashes his badge and ignores the uni who calls out “Hey Graves, what’s the rush?” and nearly topples Credence over when he grabs him and yanks him into his chest. 

 

The muffled sound of pain has him recoiling just as fast and he’s mentally cataloguing every inch of Credence he can see; heart stuttering painfully when he sees the black eye forming and the split lip weeping blood. 

 

_ “You said you were okay,” _ he whispers, voice hoarse as he struggles not to let the panicked tears threatening behind his eyes to fall. 

 

To his credit, Credence looks guilty as he ducks his chin and readjusts the cold compress he’s holding to his face so he can peer up at Percy through the eye that isn’t bruised. 

 

“I am. Just...a little banged up,” he murmurs, “not like I haven’t had worse,” he reminds Percy wryly and it’s  _ entirely  _ the wrong thing to say, because now Percy can’t stop thinking about what  _ worse  _ things he’s endured and how bruised and scared he looks now and he just, he  _ can’t  _ handle this. 

 

He whirls away, hand scrubbing over his face as a few tears leak out and his heart tries to slow down but there’s too much adrenaline so he paces away for a block and then comes back, entirely unaware that the EMT’s and unis and Credence are all watching him. 

 

_ Christ _ , he’s  _ got _ to calm down or someone is going to get suspicious about his relationship with the kid and then where the fuck will they be? 

 

He takes purposeful breaths, deep and slow, and grits his teeth against the craving for nicotine, silently promising himself he’ll have a drink later when Credence isn’t around. 

 

His steps are slower and more steady as he approaches Credence, heart beating more normally within the confines of its cage. This time he crouches in front of Credence and gives him a tight smile, one hand resting on his forearm and squeezing gently. 

 

Credence stares down at him with worry and caution in his angular dark eyes, and it’s killing him not to be able to lean in and kiss him like he wants to, but he satisfies himself with this little touch, assuring him that the kid is real, and here with him. 

 

“What happened?”

 

His throat bobs before he answers, eyes closing for a moment, and Percy can see the tension in his shoulders for the first time and silently curses himself for being a selfish asshole and not noticing earlier. 

 

“A man came in with a gun. Told everyone to get on the floor. He wanted the money from the register and I wouldn’t give it to him, so he hit me with the gun.” 

 

Credence gestures to the patrol car at the corner, “The officers came in looking for a snack and stopped him from doing anything else, but he ran out the back before they could arrest him.”

 

There’s something to the way Credence tells the story that tells him there’s more to it, but he doesn’t push, doesn’t ask, not  _ here _ . 

 

Glancing up to the EMT and officers lingering nearby, he nods sharply and tells them, “He’s a friend so if you don’t mind I’m taking him home,” and it’s less of a question and more of a statement of fact, so despite some unease by the EMT who thinks Credence could have a concussion, no one actively stops them from leaving. 

 

They make it all the way to Credence’s apartment before he says or does anything and when he does, he can’t actually speak because his emotions are choking him and he can’t see and he can’t breathe and suddenly he finds himself on the floor, sobbing as Credence holds him tightly, whispering soft reassuring things that don’t make a damn bit of sense to his overloaded brain.

 

When he calms a little he wipes at his face and finds that Credence is sitting beside him, holding his hand and talking about how he found Oscar while he lived at the church and how it was the first thing to make him want to leave because he wasn’t allowed to have pets and he finds himself laughing weakly at the way Credence describes the look on his mother’s face when he came home with a raggedy, dirty kitten. 

 

It shouldn’t be funny because he knows that she beat him for it, but there’s something about the way Credence tells the story that makes him laugh, and he didn’t know it was what he needed until it was bubbling up out of his chest, taking them both by surprise. 

 

“That’s a nice sound,” Credence murmurs, tilting his head to meet Percy’s gaze and smile softly at him. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Scared. Sick to my stomach. Fuck, Credence, you should have told me you were hurt,” he huffs out, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head, “I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

 

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t want you to get in trouble for coming to see me.”

 

“Fuck it, I’ll always come if you need me.”

 

“I know, but it could cost you a lot it if you do.”

 

He turns and looks at Credence intently. “It could cost me a lot more if I didn’t.”

 

Credence stares at him wide eyed, stunned and he can’t really blame him because that’s not something he’s said before; this raw admission of his feelings for the kid. 

 

“The man was from the church.”

 

The kid just fuckin blurts it at him and it takes a moment to register and when it does he stares at Credence, incredulous. 

 

“What?”

 

Credence winces and nods, “Josiah. He...he would cane us if we questioned our teachings. He also handled the kids they couldn’t break. He made them disappear.”

 

_ Fuck _ it’s so bad.

 

“I...why did he come in the bodega? Was it a coincidence?” 

 

“No...he was looking for me. I…”

 

Credence trails off and looks uncomfortable for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “He was sending a message from my...Mary Lou. They wanted to know where the money I’ve been sending is this week.”

 

There’s a ringing in his ears again but this time it’s from disbelief and raw fury, choking him for a moment before he manages to get out a strangled  _ what?  _

 

“I uh, when I left, the donations to the church slowed because there wasn’t anyone to play the piano and draw people in. About two weeks after Momo and I left Mary Lou found us and told me the kids were going hungry because I had left, and I had just gotten paid by the restaurant and bodega and I just…” he sighs heavily, looking more tired and broken than he ever has in the short time Percy’s known him. 

 

“I couldn’t let the kids starve. I know what that’s like,” he tells Percy, eyes shadowed and haunted. Percy can’t blame him, not really, not knowing how abused and manipulated he’d been by the woman who called herself his mother. 

 

“And I know she was probably lying, but when I tried to stop paying before they found Momo after school and threatened her. I didn’t know who to trust in the police because some of them worked for Grindelwald and I couldn’t risk it Percy, I couldn’t risk Momo getting hurt,” he explains pleadingly, as if Percy is going to condemn him for doing everything he could to protect his sister from these maniacs. 

 

It strikes him then that he hasn’t once reassured Credence or held him since that moment at the bodega when he had embraced him before promptly losing his shit. 

 

Disgust fills him and he shakes his head, inadvertently confusing and worrying Credence who thinks he’s refuting the explanation he just fought his way through, but he just shakes his head again, smiling joylessly, “I don’t blame you for any of it Credence. Only those who do these things are responsible for their actions. They’ll try to convince you it’s your fault for their sins, but we’re all only responsible for our own actions.”

 

Sighing heavily he smiles unhappily at Credence, “And I’m responsible for acting like a jackass. I’m so sorry Credence, it’s not up to you to calm me down.” He laughs bitterly and scrubs a hand over his aching eyes, “I don’t deserve someone as kind as you kid and you certainly don’t deserve a bitter old man like me.”

 

Credence stares at him for a long moment and then with a very determined look, slides into his lap and winds his arms around Percy’s neck. “It’s not about deserving Percy. Mary Lou used to tell me I deserved my beatings and she was wrong, just like you’re wrong. You’re a good man, a kind man, and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

 

He’s not sure Credence is right about him; he’s not a bad man, but he certainly has done quite a bit of bad in his life to qualify for that title, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond because Credence is settling a little more deeply in his lap, leaning in to gently kiss him, soft and gentle and almost persuasive.

 

It’s not at all what Percy was expecting so he goes still for a moment before he’s responding in kind and his hands are covering thin hips, a slight curve filling them out now that he’s been buying groceries for the kid and making sure he eats enough. 

 

When Credence pulls back they’re both breathing unsteadily and his cock is starting to come to life, the promise of more heating his belly. Credence’s weight is solid and warm and reassuring in his lap and it still makes his heart ache to see his beautiful creamy skin bruised, but instead of saying anything he leans up and presses his lips to each mark, gentle and soft so he doesn’t inadvertently hurt him. 

 

“What do you think about coming away with me this weekend?” he asks Credence, smiling softly at the surprise in his eyes. “We can take Momo and go to my house outside the city, she can bring a friend or two if she wants. We can dress up for Halloween and go trick or treating if you want.”

 

When Credence just looks bemused a sinking feeling weighs him down. “I...I just want you both to be safe. If there’s someone coming after you or her, they’re going to have a hard time getting through me.”

 

Credence’s mouth opens and closes slowly, as if he’s chewing his words before he spits them out and it kills Percy, but he waits, heart pounding in his chest. He keeps spilling his guts to the kid, showing his hand before he’s even checked his cards and it’s terrifying, but oddly refreshing. 

 

“I...I would love that Percy, are you sure you don’t mind having Momo with us?” 

 

It’s asked hesitantly, and Percy knows that if he told Credence that he didn’t want Momo there, he’d never come. It’s a very good thing that he means his offer sincerely then; if something happens to Credence or Momo he’d never forgive himself.

 

Brushing his knuckles over Credence’s cheek tenderly, he smiles softly and nods, “I’d mind if she  _ wasn’t  _ there,” he tells him, “I’d be worried the whole time. I’m not about to let either of you get hurt, hell, if I had it my way I’d stash you away in the house and keep you there until we take care of these assholes once and for all.”

 

He laughs at Credence’s stunned look, “Can I? Can I keep you Credence?” he asks and  _ wow _ that’s not what he meant to ask, but now that it’s out there, he needs to know. Softening, his voice drops to a raspy whisper as he asks again, “Can I keep you safe Credence? Can I take care of you and Momo and make you as happy as you make me?”

 

Credence stares at him for a long moment before he hiccoughs out a sound that’s half laugh, half sob and then he’s leaning in and kissing him fervently, and Percy can feel tears on Credence’s skin and copper in his mouth from where the kid’s lip must have opened again but he doesn’t pull away, just closer. 

 

“Is that a yes?”

 

They share a laugh and a teary eyed grin before Credence nods and leans back in to whisper,  “Yea, that’s a yes, now shut up and kiss me.” Credence captures his lips again, soft happy noises coming from his throat as he runs his fingers through Percy’s hair, tugging him closer still. 

 

Percy’s laughter at the quip dies as Credence’s lips find his and it fades into his chest as a bright warm feeling that makes his ribs ache in the best way. 

 

_ That’s a yes _

 

* * *

 

 

They take a shower together despite the fact the stall is really too small for it and when he sees the scars on Credence’s back once more it twists his gut into knots; the hate he has for Grindelwald and Mary Lou makes it hard to breathe for a moment before he pushes it away.

 

He gets a hand on Credence’s cock and they both decide they’re clean enough and stumble out to his tiny twin bed where Percy covers Credence’s body with his own. 

 

He’s about halfway down his torso, avoiding the darkening bruise on his ribs where Josiah had kicked him after he knocked him to the ground. He keeps his touches soft and tender, trying to avoid anything that will hurt Credence, the thought of it churning in his head. 

 

He kisses and sucks, leaving marks that turn a purplish red as he closes his lips around the dusky pink of Credence’s nipple, watching eagerly for the shiver that he so loves. The kid is so responsive it makes it hard not to lose his own tenuous control and just rut into the sheets till he comes, but he doesn’t want that, not yet anyway. 

 

So he spends what feels like days on those pretty nipples, licking and then blowing cool air over them so Credence shudders and whines, sucking till they’re full and achy and Credence is gasping, rolling his hips with a whine, begging for more. 

 

He can feel the wet of Credence’s cock between them, leaking onto the flat plane of his stomach steadily and it makes him groan and nip again at the now reddish skin of his nipples. Credence lets out a little sob and fists his hands in the sheets, head thrown back so the marked skin of his throat is exposed, vulnerable.

 

Percy takes mercy on him and leans up to press soft kisses along the marks he’s already left, grinning when the boy moans and whimpers at the sensation of their cocks sliding together, wet and hot. He rolls his hips and groans too when the slick of Credence’s precum wets his cock, easing the slide of skin against skin. 

 

“Please...P-Percy... _ please _ !”

 

“Please what baby?”

 

Credence whines and shakes his head, frustrated and aroused, hips rising against Percy’s in deliberate rolling motions, needy little gasps coming from between glistening lush lips, “Need you...please,” he begs, eyes hooded with lust. 

 

Percy takes mercy on him and nods, humming softly as he leans up to kiss those petal pink lips, sucking and biting on the lower one till Credence is moaning and his nails are scratching down Percy’s back, soft desperate sounds like sugar on his tongue as he swallows them down. 

 

In all his wildest fantasies he’d never have imagined someone as beautiful and sweet as Credence being the person he fell for, but as he closes a hand around his cock and watches as Credence arcs into the touch with a broken gasp, he’s more sure of his feelings for him than he’s ever been. 

 

_ Too soon, too young, too complicated _

 

All excuses that he refutes vehemently every time they try to sow unease in him. 

 

_ Too soon?  _ There’s no timetable on love he thinks, a shudder running down his spine at the impact the word has inside him. 

 

_ Too young?  _ Age is a number, and for a young man like Credence who had suffered immeasurably, that number didn’t mean a damn thing. 

 

_ Too complicated? _ He almost laughs at that one because really, his last relationship had been with a man who, until that point had thought of himself as straight, so really, it didn’t get more complicated than cheating with a married man and subsequently falling in love with said man.

 

But none of it matters because he’s already made a commitment to Credence, even if he hasn’t told him yet, to always take care of him, to be kind and gentle and loving and a good partner and that’s all that matters. 

 

“P-Percy!  _ Uh _ ! Oh  _ god _ , please, need you—” a gasp as Percy strokes his thumb over the sensitive weeping tip of Credence’s cock, “ _ Ah _ ! Please! Inside me!” he begs, little hitching breaths making his chest stutter. 

 

Percy pauses at that; they’ve exchanged blow jobs and hand jobs and the kid has sat in his lap and rode his thigh till he came, but they haven’t done  _ that _ yet. As much as he wants to, he doesn’t think they have time before Momo comes home or the proper preparation put in for him to take Credence like he wants, hell, like  _ Percy  _ wants, so he leans in and kisses him, shaking his head gently. 

 

“Baby, not yet, not while you’re hurt.”

 

Credence whines and rolls his hips, fucking his cock through Percy’s hand, eyes wide and desperate as he moans. 

 

“Please Percy, please, just…” he pants for a moment, groaning and tossing his head back as Percy strokes him slowly, lightly, too gently to really get him off and he knows it’s torturous, but he can’t help being greedy for the noises Credence makes or the way he blushes so prettily. 

 

“Can I...have your fingers?” Credence pleads, panting and whining softly, small tremors running over his body as Percy makes slow circles on the head of his cock with his thumb. 

 

A heady rush of desire has Percy closing his eyes for a moment as the image fills his mind, and he’s  _ weak _ , he knows it, because he  _ should  _ say no,  but what he says instead is a choked off  _ yes _ , and god, he’s going to hell  _ for sure _ . 

 

Credence makes a small noise of pleasure and leans away, rolling onto his side to swipe a hand under the bed before he comes up with a black shoebox and when he opens it, Percy’s heart stutters painfully in his chest. 

 

Lube, condoms, a vibrator and what looks like a plug rattle around for a minute before Credence drops it back onto the ground and shoves the lube into his hands. 

 

“I...have you...used any of that?” he asks, choking on the words because the image he has in his head of Credence fucking himself, well, he’s gonna need a minute. 

 

Eyes hooded with desire, Credence is leaning back against his pillows, flushed pink and panting as he nods, “When I left the church I was so scared of sinning, but—” he takes a moment to breathe unsteadily, smiling at Percy faintly, “but eventually I discovered porn. Figured out where to buy stuff, learned how to use it.”

 

He shrugs a shoulder, “I’ve still never done this with anyone though,” he tells Percy in a small voice, “I’ve used the v-vibrator I-inside me,” he stutters out, “When I think o-of you,” he whispers, blushing and glancing away. 

 

And fuck, it shouldn’t turn him on like it does, but, he already knew he wasn’t a healthy man, and how is  _ anyone _ supposed to think straight when they’ve got this beautiful boy admitting he’s fucked himself to thoughts of them? 

 

Impossible, really. 

 

So he leans in, covering that lithe body with his and kisses Credence until they’re both wound up and rocking into each other desperately. 

 

“I’m glad,” he gasps, “I’m glad I’m your first.”

 

Long fingers shove through his hair and tug till he’s meeting a dark, intense gaze. 

 

“My only. I don’t want anyone else.”

 

It pierces him like a knife to the heart, aching and yet so  _ so _ sweet, this confession of Credence’s. He kisses him again, slower and softer this time, wishing he had better words than,  _ me too _ to offer, but it seems to make Credence happy, so maybe he’s not such a fucking fool as he thought. 

 

Eventually Credence gets impatient and grabs Percy’s hand, guiding it between his legs with an urge to  _ hurry up. _ Percy smirks and presses another kiss to his lips and then pulls away, slowly trailing kisses down his chest, lingering on those rosy nipples until Credence’s breath is stuttering out and he’s begging him in the most awful, beautiful voice to stop. 

 

He does, with one last parting nip of his teeth that has Credence whining and his cock spurting hot between them, and Percy can feel it, trapped and twitching and he decides he’ll take mercy on Credence, give him some relief, so he swallows it down in one motion and he watches through dazed eyes as Credence arches, Percy’s name a mewl that shreds as the boy gasps for air. 

 

The bitter taste of his cum hits Percy’s throat but he doesn’t mind it, just swallows as Credence comes, unexpected and loud. 

 

“ _ Ah ah ah! _ P-Percy!  **_Ahh_ ** !”

 

His cries get louder as Percy bobs his head, lips curling around the sensitive tip so he can press his tongue against the slit, encouraging more cum to spurt out as he works to keep the kid hard. When Credence sobs and pushes at his shoulder with his foot, Percy grabs it and throws it over his shoulder, unrelenting in his pursuit of pleasuring Credence.

 

“Ohhhh, oh  _ god!  _ It-it-it  _ hurts _ !”

 

Credence moans and sobs and begs, but he doesn’t stop thrusting his hips up into Percy’s mouth, so he keeps going, one hand coming down to use the spit and cum that’s leaked out to rub into his skin, right at his perineum and with a few strokes and a particularly hard suck, he comes again. 

 

This time Percy pulls off when Credence pushes at him, but he’s not done yet, not when he hasn’t given Credence what he asked for. Smirking, he slides down and grabs Credence’s thighs while he’s still recovering and a little out of it, throwing them over his shoulders before he leans in and  _ licks _ , right over the tight furl of muscle between those perfect cheeks. 

 

The reaction is immediate. 

 

Credence gasps his name and bucks away, stunned, but if the look on his face is any indicator, interested and aroused. 

 

“Can I eat you out first baby? Can I get you all wet before I finger you?” he asks, voice rough from having Credence’s cock down his throat. The boy mewls and nods, biting at his lower lip, and fuck, he’s so debauched looking it takes Percy a second to regain his grip on his control before he can nod and go back to work. 

 

Eating ass has never been his favorite thing with other partners, but with Credence everything is new and his reactions to Percy’s touch and lewd suggestions inevitably starts and ends with a flush and a breathy gasp of his name, so really, how can he  _ not _ enjoy it? 

 

He tries different things, letting the noises Credence makes guide him until he figures out that thrusting his tongue in and curling it against the inside of his rim makes Credence go nearly silent as he breathes in great shaking gasps, thighs twitching near his head. 

 

Squeezing out a dollop of lube, he works one finger in beside his tongue, groaning at the wrecked sounds coming from Credence’s throat. He glances up and yup, the kid is hard again, cock pressed against his stomach and leaking out a pool of precum with each twitch.

 

He adds another finger slowly, tongue tracing the stretch of his rim as Credence sobs for air, chest hitching with each purposeful curl of his fingers. He pulls back slightly and just watches as the kid’s hole stretches around his fingers, need burning in his gut at the sight. 

 

Pushing forward, he curls and swirls his fingers until they slide...just..

 

“ **_Ahhhh_ ** !”

 

Credence wails and his cock twitches and Percy grins— _ there _ .

 

He scissors his fingers, spreading him open a bit more before he fucks his fingers in, hitting that spot with unerring precision over and over again. 

 

A stream of nonsense pleading words fall from Credence’s lips, the boy nearly incoherent as Percy guides him, over and over again into crashing waves of pleasure that push him higher towards release. 

 

He doesn’t touch the kid’s cock, all red and throbbing, because now that he’s here, he wants to see the kid come just like this and tells him exactly that. In fact, he hasn’t been able to stop talking since he pulled his tongue out of Credence’s ass, and the sight before him isn’t going to shut him up anytime soon. 

 

“So good baby, you’re doing  _ so _ good, that’s my good boy,” he croons as Credence lets out punched out noises, writhes and begs—for what he’s not specific, too lost in the haze of pleasure to articulate anything more than Percy’s name coherently.

 

“You look so pretty Credence, all pink and stretched around my fingers.”

 

He circles his thumb over the rim slowly, another layer of stimulation that just pushes Credence higher. 

 

“How’s it feel baby? C’mon sweetheart, tell me how it feels,” he murmurs, eyes on Credence’s face as he whines and shakes his head. 

 

“‘S good,” Credence slurs, eyes glossy and lips bitten red, “feel...full.”

 

“Yea? You feel so good on my fingers. Tight and hot... _ fuck,”  _ he gasps, curling his fingers harder, focusing on that spot with greater intensity until Credence almost looks like he’s in pain, face twisting with pleasure as his hips rock up and his cock spurts, painting his stomach white. 

 

Percy doesn’t relent, doesn’t slow, just keeps steadily rubbing on that spot, working Credence through it until he’s vaguely coherent again. “Look at you baby, what a mess,” Percy murmurs happily, “look, Credence honey, you’re still hard,” he tells him, watching as he opens his eyes and dazedly looks down to find Percy’s telling the truth. 

 

“Gonna make you come again,” Percy rasps, “okay baby?”

 

His head drops back with a whimper and he shakes his head slowly, hands moving to cover his face. He mumbles something that Percy can’t hear so he grabs his cock and strokes it once, eliciting a sharp cry from Credence, his hands falling away from his face to glare at him. 

 

“Say it again.”

 

“I can’t...can't come again.”

 

Percy keeps up his slow rubbing on Credence’s prostate, nodding slowly, “Sure you can baby. Just trust me, okay?” he whispers, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips. 

 

“Can’t...it...it aches.”

 

“I know baby, it’ll stop when you come again.”

 

Credence whimpers but nods, and Percy goes to work again. He slowly presses in a third finger, stilling his motions inside Credence to let him adjust before he keeps going, they wet sound of his fingers fucking into him loud in the room. 

 

The only other sounds are Credence’s breathy moans and high pitched whimpers as he’s stretched out and stroked. When Percy adds his hand to his cock, Credence yelps, hips bucking as cum steadily leaks out of his now cherry red cock. 

 

_ Please please please...oh Percy!  _ **_Please!_ **

 

The kid is nearly incoherent as Percy rubs harder inside him and leans down to suck on his cock, hollowing his cheeks around the head where he’s most sensitive and with just a few more strokes and a press of his tongue to his slit, Credence comes.

 

He pulls off after the first spurt of cum and strokes his cock through it, Credence’s overwhelmed sobs loud as he twists his fingers inside him, prolonging the pleasure until the boy is jerking and twitching, and when he looks up and sees tears on his face he instantly stops, letting his cock finally go limp. 

 

Percy is familiar with how empty it can feel when a partner pulls out so he leaves his fingers still inside Credence as he takes his own cock in hand and with an embarrassingly short amount of strokes, comes across Credence’s thigh. 

 

He watches as it drips down over his hole and shudders, imagining what it’ll be like to be inside him where it’s hot and wet and tight. Easing his fingers out slowly, he leans up and kisses Credence, shushing him softly as he hiccoughs, breath sobbing as he curls up into Percy. 

 

Wiping his hands on the sheets he pulls Credence into him, tucking his head beneath his chin and throwing his own leg over slim hips and tucking it behind his thigh to pull him closer. 

 

“Shh baby, it’s ok, just breathe,” he whispers, large hand passing in soothing circles over his lean spine. “I’ve got you, you’re okay,” he murmurs, over and over again until Credence is pliant and sleepy in his arms.

 

“That was…”

 

“Too much?” he supplies warily. It had seemed like the kid was enjoying it, but he knew it was all new so maybe he had hurt him, overworked him. “Shit, Credence, I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, pulling away to peer worriedly down at the boy in his arms. 

 

Plush red lips curl into a dazed smile as Credence shakes his head and leans in for a kiss. “No, you didn’t. It was amazing.”

 

Eyes fluttering shut as a sigh of relief rushes out, he kisses Credence back until they’re both too exhausted and he knows he should get up and help clean them up, but the day’s events and the stew of hormones wipes away any energy he has left. 

 

He distantly feels Credence get up and a few minutes later there’s gentle hands wiping him down before the covers get pulled up and a soft mouth is on his and he’s smiling as he falls asleep because a soft voice has just told him  _ I love you.  _


	6. Love is a Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s the end!! Thank you all so much for your support, lovely comments and I hope you’ve enjoyed the story and the music!! 
> 
> Songs are: Petricor, Primavera, and Love is a Mystery by Ludivico Einaudi.

In the end they don’t get caught like Credence had feared because they’re woken by a frantic call from Momo, explaining that Josiah had shown up to her field hockey practice and cornered her as the team had left. When they pick her up and Credence sees the red mark on her cheek and the bruise on her wrist he understands for the first time how people can want to murder someone.

 

Percy is rigid with rage and it only takes a little prodding and some soft pleading— _ I can’t keep you safe here, please let me keep you safe— _ to convince him to go with Percy to his house outside of the city. 

 

He and Momo pack quickly and he makes sure the landlord has their next rent payment before they leave, Oscar in tow, and when he explains to both his managers the ugly situation in sparse but heavily suggestive detail, he receives assurances that his job will still be there when he gets back. 

 

Which is how he finds himself here, in Percy’s home, surrounded by trees and rain and fog, the large house empty of life except for he, Momo and Oscar. Percy had gotten them settled before he headed back to the city with an assurance that he wouldn’t be gone long and a parting kiss that made his heart beat faster. 

 

But it’s been two and half days and without more than the passing texts he’s gotten from Percy, and he has no idea what’s going on or when the older man will be back.  

 

Thunder rolls in the distance as yet more rain moves in and he thinks longingly of the heat of summer, wafting up from the concrete and sinking into his bones so he feels like he’s going to melt without something to cool him down. 

 

He enjoys the rain, it’s always been soothing, but it feels ominous now somehow, and he shivers before he turns from the window and heads to the drawing room. It’s really more of a library, but that’s what Percy has called it— _ the piano is in the drawing room _ he had told him before he left.  _ It was my mother’s. _

 

He’s stared at it over the past few days, longing to play the sleek black instrument, but the gold lettering  _ Steinway  _ makes his hands shake. He’s played only on old uprights and one or two concert pianos on his truncated tour of New York, never on something so beautiful and expensive. 

 

The temptation is eventually too much and he sits, stares at the keys for a long time, pondering what it is that’s keeping Percy from him, if he’s safe, if he’ll catch Josiah and stop Grindelwald and Mary Lou, and eventually it’s too much to think about so he plays. 

 

He plays and plays and plays, fingers flitting up and down the keys as he works on the piece he had begun composing after Percy had made him breakfast the first time he stayed over. His chest swells with emotion as he plays, recalling the way Percy smiled at him after their first kiss, the way he’s been able to open his fridge and never find it empty since Percy came into his life, the sensation of Percy’s fingers inside him…

 

When he trails off and stares down at the keys he wishes he had his notebook with him so he could write down what he’s just played, but the recording he’s made on his phone will have to be enough for now. Leaning over he taps the button to stop recording and stills when he hears a cold laugh behind him. 

 

“That was lovely Credence, did you write that for your  _ lover _ ?”

 

Stomach sinking, he grabs his phone and turns slowly, terror and despair filling him when he sees Grindelwald standing in the doorway. The man grins at him, hands tucked carefully into his pockets, his shirt buttoned up to his throat to hide the tattoos Credence knows lie beneath. 

 

“What are you doing here?” he manages to choke out, fingers so tight around his phone they’ve begun to ache. 

 

“Why, isn’t it obvious? We’ve come to bring you and your sister back to the fold! Your time away has clearly corrupted your soul. You’ve been consorting with agents of the devil, polluting your body with foul acts—it’s clear how much you need the love of Christ and that of your father.”

 

Bile rises in his throat at the phrase, loaded with sense memory so he feels the firm touch of a hand on his neck, holding him in place as... **_NO._ **

 

He trembles with the effort of pushing away the memory, the sensation of Grindelwald’s larger body pressed to his, and he shoots to his feet, glaring at the man. 

 

“You were never my father. You’re a loathsome, vile man and I  _ never _ ,  **_ever_ ** want to see you again,” he hisses, jaw clenching so tight it hurts. 

 

Dark, ugly laughter fills the room. “Oh Credence,” Grindelwald sighs, sounding like he’s talking  to a particularly dull child, “you really don’t want to push me.”

 

A high pitched scream rends the air and Credence lurches forward, heart clenching. 

 

_ Momo  _

 

Grindelwald side steps and blocks him from advancing, “Ah ah, lets just let your mother deal with Modesty,” he murmurs, stepping closer to Credence till he can smell the gunpowder and blood on his skin. 

 

“Shall we talk like men Credence? You’ve sinned against god and your family and you’re going to be punished, but I assure you, you’ll find redemption in suffering.”

 

Credence shuffles back a step but isn’t fast enough to stop the fist to the gut or the blow to his head that sends him reeling, ears ringing and copper in his mouth. 

 

Grindelwald pursues him in stalking steps, slapping him across the face and then kicking his knee so it collapses and he’s knocked to the ground, panting. The sound of a belt clanking sends a shiver over his spine and he tries to pull himself together but a boot connects with his ribs and he sprawls to the ground, lungs on fire.

 

“This is for your own good Credence. We must save your soul.” 

 

Hands rend the shirt from his back and he shudders, trying to fight back with a kick and a slap, but he’s backhanded and kicked in the ribs twice more before he collapses, blood filling his mouth. 

 

A presence hovers close to his skin, but it’s not warm like Percy is— _ oh god, where is Percy? _ —it’s black and cold, a void into which he’s going to be consumed and he shudders, coughing up blood onto the shiny parquet flooring beneath him. 

 

“You are mine Credence.  _ My _ boy.  _ Mine _ .”

 

Aqua Velva wafts to his nose and the familiar scent makes his stomach revolt, memory of it on his skin making him retch.

 

The first blow takes him by surprise; it’s so hard he doesn’t feel anything for a moment before the pain comes, white hot and searing into his bones. 

 

He screams after the third.

 

Momo screams distantly too, and it hurts worse than the lashes.

 

Sobs after the fifth.

 

Grindelwald grunts with effort and laughs when he flinches at the sound. 

 

Wishes he’d die after the seventh.

 

A distant crashing noise reaches him but he can’t move, too agonized and frozen by fear to even breathe. 

 

Someone screams and he thinks it might be him but he can’t be sure because everything is going fuzzy around the edges and then he hears something loud, a booming sound that shakes his spine, and then….

 

Nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

He wakes up two days later in the hospital, stiff and confused, numb from painkillers. When he opens his eyes and groans, there’s a shuffling sound, a cry of his name and then a weight slams into his chest. 

 

He grunts at the pressure on his ribs and back, gasping as the pain makes itself known even through the morphine. 

 

“Momo! Careful,” a voice admonishes and he opens his eyes again because he  _ knows  _ that voice…

 

The first thing he sees is a blonde head, and his stomach flips with relief; Momo is okay. 

 

The second thing he sees is the bruised but relieved face of Percy, dark shadows beneath his eyes and a row of stitches over his brow that look painful and all he wants in that moment is to have Percy’s arms around him. 

 

Smiling weakly he lifts a hand in a beckoning gesture, “C’mere,” he rasps, wincing as his throat throbs. 

 

Percy obeys, rising unsteadily with a wince to grab the cup on the tray beside his bed so he can hold it to Credence’s lips. He takes a long sip, smiling gratefully when Percy pulls it away so he can breathe and then offers it again. 

 

By the time he’s drained the cup Momo has moved to sit upright and his heart thuds painfully. She’s got a black eye and a broken nose and her left arm is in a sling and tears well unbidden in his eyes at the sight of the two people he loves the most, battered and broken. 

 

When he sobs Percy lurches forward to embrace him, followed closely by Momo and they stay that way until all three of them have cried and then calmed, and it’s too hot between them and his bones are starting to ache, but it feels so good to have them close. 

 

Eventually they part, wiping at tears and sniffling, but he’s able to give them a wobbly smile because they’re here and they’re alive and  _ safe _ . 

 

“What happened?” he asks, voice hoarse from screaming and disuse. 

 

Percy looks abruptly exhausted, lines deep around his mouth and he hesitates for a moment before he speaks. 

 

“I got word that unis had found Josiah and had him in custody. When I went to interrogate him, he was rambling on about righteous retribution on sinners and when I uh, pushed, he said that the church was going to bring you back to the fold.”

 

Percy looks furious as he continues, “One way or another he said.”

 

He shakes his head and looks away, jaw tight, and for the first time Credence notices that the badge and gun he’s so used to seeing on his hip is gone. 

 

“I finally got it out of him that they were coming for you and knew I had taken you upstate. Tina and Newt and Sera got a judge to sign off on a warrant and they went to the church, hoping they could stop it, but Grindelwald and Mary Lou were already gone.”

 

Momo shifts beside him, pulling up the spare blanket at the end of the bed so she can cover her legs, her shoulder nudging his as she takes his hand, squeezing it gently before looking to Percy and nodding. 

 

“I came for you, as fast as I could, but they had beaten me there, I hadn’t left soon enough, and I was, I was too  _ late,  _ god, Credence, Momo, I’m so sorry, I’m so  _ fuckin  _ sorry,” he gasps, breaking down into tears again. 

 

Tears burn in Credence’s eyes as he reaches out for Percy’s hand, squeezing it as tight as he can while the man he loves weeps. Momo buries her face in his shoulder and he can feel the material of his medical gown grow wet from her tears. 

 

When they all manage to collect themselves again he keeps ahold of Percy’s hand and squeezes it, “You weren’t too late. You saved us both. You saved us Percy.”

 

The older man’s eyes shine as he shakes his head, doubt and grief darkening his gaze but he doesn’t say anything to refute the comment. 

 

“Grindelwald?” he asks quietly, somehow already knowing the answer, but he  _ needs _ to hear it, needs Percy to tell him. 

 

“Dead.”

 

Relief is so immediate and profound it takes his breath away and he closes his eyes for a moment before nodding. 

 

“Good.”

 

It’s said with feeling and when he opens his eyes Percy and Momo are both looking at him, surprise and understanding in their gazes. 

 

“Mary Lou?”

 

This one he’s not sure of, and when Percy sighs and looks unhappy, he knows, she’s still alive. 

 

“She’s in custody here in the hospital. She was uh,  _ injured _ ,” he explains, gaze flickering to Momo for a moment. 

 

“What he means is that when that cunt tried to drag me out of the house I shoved her down the stairs and broke her back.”

 

Momo’s voice is filled with dark, bitter delight and it sends a shiver over his spine, and it’s quickly followed by another murmur from him of, “Good.” 

 

Momo barks out a laugh and shakes her head, “And apparently since I was fighting for my life and freedom, they won’t even charge me for anything,” she tells him, raw emotion making her mouth purse as she glances away and shakes her head. “As if anything they could do would be worse than going back there.”

 

There’s not much more to say after that, and eventually a nurse comes in to check his wounds and usher Momo and Percy from the room. 

 

It’s more than a week before he’s allowed to go home and when he does he finds that Percy’s had his locks changed and paid three months of his rent in advance, and he’s not even upset at the generosity because he knows it’s just Percy trying to make up for not being there on time. 

 

At night, he sleeps on the couch so his nightmares don’t wake Momo up, but it seems hers aren’t any better and when Percy stays the night they end up playing cards and drinking hot cocoa until the sun rises and they’re so exhausted that the nightmares fade away.

 

The members of the church are arrested in waves, each one reviving the story in the newspapers and when his name leaks he has reporters trying to talk to him at work and following Momo to school, and it finally escalates when a man with a camera follows Momo home in the dark and Percy almost takes his head off for stalking her. 

 

He’s still suspended from the force for killing Grindelwald, and there’s an official review of his actions, but Sera comes by and tells them that with the long reaching implications of the church’s high dollar donors, there’s pressure from the Mayor and Governor’s offices to clear it up, and  _ fast. _

 

As Thanksgiving ends and snow begins to coat the ground, the trials start. For the first time, Credence tells someone other than his therapist exactly what happened at the church.

 

_ Gellert Grindelwald and Mary Lou Barebone adopted me when I was six. They taught me to pray and serve God and hide guns under the floorboards when the police came.  _

 

_ I played piano to draw in the crowds and handed out propaganda and gave food to the children so they would trust us and join the church. I saw kids used to move drugs and money and guns, preparing for a holy war against the evils of the government.  _

 

_ I was beaten for speaking out or questioning the beliefs or motives of the church. I took beatings for other, younger children. _

 

_ I was molested from the age of 15 by Gellert Grindelwald. He said it was to keep me from the sin of self pleasure when he touched me at night. It was my fault for being so beautiful when he came on me while I played. It was my fault that he couldn’t lie with my mother, that I had incited sinful desires in him.  _

 

_ He beat me and made me thank him for it.  _

 

Chastity calls him a liar, screams and shrieks and lunges for him, face twisted with hate and righteous fury and it grieves him to see the young woman he once cared for being hauled away in chains, cursing his name. 

 

Through it all he keeps his gaze on Percy and Momo in the second row, their eyes shining with love and support. 

 

When it’s all over, spring is creeping towards summer and Percy takes them back to his house outside the city. They garden, get their hands dirty and plant living things and it’s healing, for all of them.

 

It’s a warm evening and Credence is reclining against Percy’s chest as they sit on the porch swing, watching as Momo and her girlfriend hold hands and giggle, pointing at the stars coming out overhead and talking softly. 

 

“I love it here,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead into Percy’s throat and smiling when the arms around him tighten. 

 

“We could stay.”

 

“All summer? I don’t know if I can get that much time off work,” he replies softly. 

 

“No, I mean, forever. We can stay here, make it our home.”

 

_ Home _

 

_ Forever _

 

He stills at the idea, then thaws slowly as he pictures it; playing for Percy at that beautiful piano, watching their flowers bloom in summer, making love in Percy’s enormous bed, being  _ together _ . 

 

“We don’t have to, I mean I know what happened here—”

 

“Was terrible. But it wasn’t  _ here _ that was the problem.  _ He  _ was the problem and he’s gone. I...what about Momo?”

 

“There’s a private school, I went to it actually, and I think she’d do amazing there. You could compose and teach music lessons if you want, we could get a dog—”

 

“And you would work in the city?”

 

“I…”

 

He got his badge back but hasn’t yet returned to the force, and Credence knows it’s because he’s afraid to leave he and Momo alone, that he’ll be too late again and something worse will happen. He’s held him after the nightmares and the screaming in his sleep and he can’t help but hope that Percy  _ never _ goes back, but he knows that Percy loves being a cop, even after all this. 

 

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll get into politics,” he jokes dryly and they share a laugh before Percy sighs and shakes his head, “I dunno baby, haven’t figured it out yet.”

 

Credence plays with his fingers and hesitates for a moment before murmuring, “Well why don’t we wait till we do figure it out. We can spend the summer here if you want, I know Momo and I would love it, and when we figure out work and school and the future we’ll talk about it again.”

 

Percy hums, but it’s a  _ good _ hum, a thoughtful noise that vibrates through his chest and into Credence. His eyes slip closed as they swing and when he opens them again the sun is gone and Momo and her girlfriend have disappeared into the house. 

 

“C’mon baby, bedtime,” Percy murmurs, one arm around his waist as they make their way upstairs. There’s giggling from behind Momo’s door, but they don’t stop; she’s 16 and she’s gotten the responsible sex lecture and besides, he doesn’t want to imagine what his sister gets up to behind that door just as much as she likely doesn’t want to know about he and Percy. 

 

Thankfully they are on opposite sides of the house with more than a few solid doors and walls between them. 

 

They strip and Credence dutifully lays on his stomach so Percy can rub cocoa butter into his new scars, the warm sweet scent so part of his skin that he always smells faintly like chocolate. 

 

As it’s massaged into his skin his previous sleepiness slips away and is replaced with a low, warm sensation in his belly. Rocking his hips back, he makes a soft noise when his ass pushes into Percy’s groin where he’s straddling his legs. 

 

Percy stills and then slows his fingers, “You okay sweetheart?” he asks softly, cautiously. 

 

“Mmm...feels good,” he replies, voice slightly muffled by the pillow beneath his head. “Your hands feel so good.”

 

He can hear the smile in Percy’s reply, “Yea? I’m glad baby. I want you to feel good.”

 

Pleasure shivers down his spine and he shifts, letting out a shuddery breath as his cock swells slowly and grinds into the sheets beneath him. 

 

“Credence?”

 

Percy’s voice is unsteady, thicker with desire, but hesitant. 

 

They haven’t had sex in months—first because they were both healing, then because the trial had brought back some of his aversion to touch and then because neither of them could work up the courage to break the impasse. 

 

They were so  _ careful  _ with each other and he  _ hated  _ it. He wanted Percy to be forceful and hold his hips down while he sucked his cock and fingered him, to croon sweet words at him while he rubbed orgasm after orgasm out of him with just his fingers inside him, and  _ oh god _ , he wanted Percy to be inside him, to have his cock fill him until he felt like he couldn’t take it, until he wept with pleasure and his body went numb. 

 

“Fuck me.”

 

At Percy’s sharp inhalation he half turns and meets his stunned gaze, lifting his hand to reach out and touch Percy’s chest, breaking that stillness as he sinks into Credence’s touch. 

 

“I don’t...Credence…”

 

“I know. We’re both scared and maybe we’re building it up into something it doesn’t need to be, but Percy I want you. I want you to touch me and kiss me and make me come and  _ god _ , I want you inside me Percy.”

 

He twists up and his hand slides up to the side of Percy’s face and he pleads now, “Please Percy. I want you inside me, I want you so deep I feel you in my heart. I want you to make me come until I can’t...just...make love to me,  _ please _ .”

 

Percy’s wide eyed and staring at him, jaw tight and eyes so dark it looks like the light is disappearing into them. He’s hard, Credence can feel it, but he doesn’t look away, just stares intently up at him, waiting.

 

Percy exhales suddenly and nods unevenly, leaning down to kiss him, and for the first time in months the promise of more is in the embrace. Percy kisses him until he’s breathing hard and uncomfortable in the position so he turns to lay beneath Percy, pulling him down on top of him so he can kiss him deeply.

 

His fingers slip through Percy’s hair, nails scraping over his scalp until the older man groans and nips at his lip in retaliation. Smiling into the kiss he repeats the action and tugs on the long strands of hair and Percy  _ growls _ before he jerks back and stares wide eyed down at him, panting hard. 

 

“You’re pushing baby, slow down,” he orders and Credence huffs out a laugh, leaning up to kiss him firmly. 

 

“It’s been four months Percy, forgive me if I’m a little impatient.”

 

Percy snorts and kisses him again, “You’re not the only one baby. But I’m taking my time with you tonight.” He nips at Credence’s jaw and whispers hotly in his ear, “I’m gonna fill you up baby, gonna make you come until you’re crying and begging me to stop.”

 

Credence whines and arches into him, groaning as Percy palms his ass and rolls his hips so their cocks slide together. “Fuck, please,  _ yes, _ ” he moans, pleasure swelling within him at the filth Percy whispers in his ear as he sucks a mark onto his neck. 

 

“You taste so sweet Credence. Can I taste your cock? Hmm? Suck you off?”

 

“ _ Yes!  _ Yes please!”

 

Percy laughs against his skin and doesn’t move to do as he asked, just keeps marking up his throat, the sensation filling him with heat, his chest rising and falling faster as Percy licks the sweat off his skin. 

 

He’s impatient and writhing beneath Percy, but he knows he’s not going to get what he wants until Percy makes the choice to move on, so he tries to calm himself down and just be present in the moment and the sensations filling his body. 

 

Percy must feel it when he relaxes because he croons praise and kisses down his chest before Percy licks over one of his nipples, lips closing over it so he can suck it between his teeth and  _ oh _ it aches so nicely. 

 

A dull warmth fills his mind as Percy continues, switching back and forth between his nipples, hands keeping them occupied when his mouth is on the other. It feels good, for the first time in months he’s not thinking about what Grindelwald or Mary Lou did, or what the scars on his back look like or if Percy loves him…

 

Percy pulls back and captures both nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, squeezing tighter and tighter until Credence is writhing and gasping, the sharp sensation making heat curl in his belly and bright white lights sparkle behind his eyes. 

 

The fingers tighten until he’s sure he can’t take it, and he begs and pleads, hands clawing at Percy as he desperately grinds his cock into Percy’s, cum spurting out at the shivery white heat sliding down his spine. It’s not really an orgasm, but it feels like it a little and he counts it as one anyway, shivering as the sensation ripples through him. 

 

When Percy lets him go he whines, high and long as the sharp pinch fades to a dull throb, hot and heavy in his chest and sinking lower with each moment. Percy presses kisses to each nipple before sliding lower and lower, teeth leaving dark marks on the insides of his thighs, studiously avoiding his cock.

 

The first swipe of his tongue over Credence’s hole makes him jerk, then moan and roll his hips in invitation. Percy chuckles against his skin, “Feel good baby? You ready?”

 

He babbles out a  _ yes  _ and a  _ please  _ and then Percy’s mouth connects with his hole again and for a time, the only thing he knows is pleasure. He thinks that if Heaven is real he wants it to be this; his body so suffused with pleasure it feels like he’ll burst like a ripe fruit. The sounds of Percy’s groans as he licks and sucks at his rim makes him dizzy, and when he looks down and sees those deep dark eyes watching him he whimpers and closes his eyes.

 

It’s all too much and he’s far closer to the edge than he’s been in the past when they did this, but this time is different, it feels much more significant, like an affirmation of the love between them, even if they haven’t said it out loud yet. 

 

He had whispered it to Percy, that day everything had started to go to shit, but he knew it didn’t count if the other person wasn’t awake. He wants to say it now, but he’s not sure that blurting out  _ I love you  _ while he’s getting his ass eaten is the most romantic moment. 

 

Percy’s tongue curls inside him and he-he can’t take it, it’s too much and not enough at the same time and he whines as his cock twitches, spurting out small ropes of cum onto his stomach but stays hard as Percy pulls back and rubs his fingers through the mess with a groan.

 

“Did you come a little baby? Hmm? You like me licking that little hole of yours that much?”

 

Credence whimpers and nods, head thrashing against the pillow because  _ wow _ he needed Percy to say things like that all the time. “P-Percy,” he manages to pant out, reaching down to curl his fingers through his hair and tug, “C’mere.”

 

Percy follows and crawls up his body, kissing him intently when his body slots with Credence’s and it’s...it’s perfect. Credence sighs into the embrace, arms twining around Percy’s muscular back to pull him closer, nails biting into the skin gently. 

 

When the older man pulls away and smiles softly down at him and cups his cheek with a hand he hums contentedly and leans into it. “You’re so beautiful Credence,” he murmurs before leaning in again and kissing him softly. 

 

He gathers his courage the next time Percy pulls back to smile at him and let them catch their breath and, trying not to stumble the words, says, “Percy I love you.”

 

There’s a split second where Percy looks stunned and then his face splits into a beaming smile that takes Credence’s breath away, but it’s nothing compared to the kiss that follows. Percy presses kisses all over his face, whispering  _ I love you too, I love you baby, oh Credence, I love you so much  _ in between each. 

 

Percy buries his face in Credence’s neck and he wraps his arms around his broad shoulders, pulling him closer as the older man laughs breathlessly and small shivers run over his skin. 

 

“I’ve-I’ve wanted to tell you for so long Credence. I was so scared. I’d lie awake in my apartment missing you, missing the sound of your heart beating beside mine and I knew, I  _ knew _ I didn’t want to do this without you.”

 

He pulls back then to look at Credence and the intense joyous look on his face makes Credence’s heart beat faster. 

 

“You taught me how to breathe again Credence. I was drowning after Theo and Grindelwald, every breath felt like a struggle and then I went to your concert and it felt like I was taking a huge gulp of air into my lungs; I felt raw inside and I knew there was something special about you.”

 

Credence blinks back tears and brings a hand around to cup Percy’s cheek, chest aching under the onslaught of emotions. “I love the rain, it makes me feel like things are blurry around the edges, softened and like I can melt away into the fabric of the world. When you look at me and touch me, I feel like that, like I’ll just melt into you and I want it a thousand times over. I don’t ever want to lose that feeling.”

 

He leans up and kisses Percy roughly, “I don’t ever want to lose  _ you _ ,” he whispers and then they’re kissing and he can’t tell if the wetness on his cheeks is from him or Percy but it doesn’t matter because they’ve found each other in the cold brutality of the world, carved a space inside each other to leave their hearts when they’re apart and it’s flawed and human and  _ perfect _ .

 

Eventually Percy pulls back and gasps against his lips, a strained, needy look in his eyes when he asks, “Credence, baby, can I be inside you? I just, I need, baby  _ please _ .”

 

And of course,  _ of course _ he wants that; he nods fervently and lifts his hips, encouraging him silently and with a sigh of  _ Please Percy please. _

 

There’s a fumble into the bedside table for lube and then Percy’s sliding two fingers in and it burns for a moment before the heat of the stretch settles into his belly and he’s begging for more, begging for Percy’s cock. 

 

The older man groans against his throat, “Fuck, Credence, almost, hold on.”

 

Credence bites his lip to keep a frustrated moan from slipping out; he knows Percy is just trying to take his time so it doesn’t hurt, but he  _ wants _ , wants Percy  _ now _ . 

 

“Just...please...I need you,” he manages to gasp out and Percy huffs out a laugh and pulls back to shake his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes as he leans in to kiss him, humming softly in his throat. 

 

“Okay baby, okay,” he agrees, shifting so he can pull his fingers out and Credence whines at the loss, even though he knows he’s getting something better he doesn’t like not having Percy inside him. 

 

Percy lifts his legs and props them over his shoulders and rolls his hips so his slicked up cock slides between Credence’s cheeks, and both of them moan and shift, need brewing between them like a thunderstorm, heavy and expectant and ready to burst. 

 

The blunt pressure on his hole has him scrambling up so he can watch, breathing in ragged gasps as he watches Percy sink into him slowly. When the head of his cock slips past the ring of his rim he shudders and moans, fingers knotted in the sheets as Percy rocks forward and back, the head tugging from the inside on his rim and  _ oh god  _ it’s  _ so much. _

 

“Fuck,” Percy rasps, “fuck, Credence” he moans, dropping a hand to mattress so he can lean down and kiss him. Credence feels breathless, his body curled in half with the weight of Percy on top of him, but it’s good,  _ so _ good, so he latches on, fingers curling around the muscle of Percy’s bicep as the older man rolls his hips and slides deeper as his tongue mimics the motion in his mouth. 

 

Heat builds in his stomach slowly as Percy curses and groans, pushing deeper until he’s all the way in and they both still, panting and moaning softly as Credence clenches around the thick length inside him. 

 

It’s too much and not enough all at once, and it’s the best thing he’s ever felt because it’s Percy and with a little broken noise he rocks his hips, gasping at the friction it provides.

 

“You okay?” Percy gasps in his ear, nipping gently at the lobe. 

 

“Y-yea…’s good...feel so good in me,” he murmurs back, relishing in the feeling of being stuffed full with Percy’s cock. 

 

“Yea?...gonna move now baby, mmkay?”

 

Credence nods and angles his jaw so Percy’s lips slide over his and he sighs in contentment, gasping against his lips as Percy rolls his hips, drawing out slowly till just the head of his cock remains and then pushing back in just as slowly. 

 

Percy moves languidly, letting him adjust to the feeling before his thrusts get harder, but still achingly slow. Credence tries to roll his hips but Percy’s leaning over him and with his legs over his shoulders he doesn’t have the strength to move, he has to lay there and just take it, the sensation of Percy inside him entirely overwhelming.

 

His cock is still hard and leaking slowly against his stomach, each thrust making it twitch and throb and the heat in his stomach sinks into his bones, turning his brain fuzzy. Every inch of him feels consumed by Percy; his lips are bruised from kisses, throat sore and marked by bites, nipples throbbing distantly as his hole spasms around Percy’s cock. 

 

He’s so full, so filled with Percy that he’s not sure where he begins and Percy ends and it’s _perfect_. He wishes they had done this sooner so he could know what it’s like to be consumed by another person, to have everything you are turned inside out by love and pleasure and _how,_ ** _how_** did he _ever_ think this was a sin? 

 

If it is, he’ll gladly go to hell. 

 

“So good Credence, Jesus  **_fuckin_ ** Christ baby.”

 

Percy curses in his ear as he fucks him, speeding up and then slowing down and the tension in his body grows and grows and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore and then, he’s coming again, small spurts onto his stomach but Percy doesn’t stop, just keeps pushing into him over and over again. 

 

He whines and gasps, the stimulation too much until the edge of it fades, and he’s panting and begging for more. 

 

“Please? Percy  _ please.” _

 

“How many is that baby?” Percy asks, short of breath and raspy, and  _ oh  _ it does things to Credence to open his eyes and find Percy staring down at him intently, hair disheveled and throat flushed as he fucks him nice and slow. 

 

“T-three?”

 

Percy hums and rolls his hips slowly, the wet drag of him inside Credence is torture of the most amazing kind, and he’s making these high pitched noises that he can’t stop himself from letting out because it’s so good and it’s Percy that’s making him feel like this and  _ god  _ it’ll never be enough, he’ll never have enough of this even if he has it every day until he dies. 

 

“Just three huh?” Percy croons, rubbing his hand up Credence’s thigh, fingers gentle as he turns his head to press a kiss to Credence’s knee. “We can do better than that, hmm?”

 

Credence can’t...the only thing he can feel right now is heat, flushing his entire body, the need inside him so large it feels like it’s displacing his organs— _ or maybe that’s Percy’s cock _ he thinks dizzily. 

 

Either way he needs more, needs to have this aching  _ want _ inside him satisfied and it hasn’t been yet, it only grows every time Percy thrusts and calls him beautiful. 

 

But Percy doesn’t thrust harder, in fact, he slows and adjusts Credence’s legs before he leans over him and his weight pushes Credence’s hips further back and  _ oh, oh god,  _ he’s deeper now.

 

Credence whines and tosses his head back, babbling as Percy starts thrusting again. 

 

“So deep, uh, it’s...uh...ah! Feel you! Ah,  _ Percy!” _

 

Percy just chuckles softly and nods, sweat beading on his brow as he fucks Credence hard, his rhythm slow and steady and it’s driving him  _ crazy _ it’s so good. 

 

“It’s good?” Percy asks teasingly and Credence can’t help the whine that comes out as he bites his lip and nods. 

 

“You...fuck me... _ so good _ ,” he agrees breathlessly. 

 

Percy leans in and kisses him, humming softly as he keeps thrusting steadily, “Thank you baby,” he whispers, tongue flicking at Credence’s lower lip. Percy kisses him some more, heedless of the whines and soft pleas Credence whispers for  _ more _ , his pace unrelenting. 

 

Eventually Percy picks up his pace, leaning into Credence so his legs are straight up in the air and the change in angle has him sliding deeper and a sound punches out of him sharply as Percy hits something inside him that makes fire race up his spine. 

 

At his sound Percy growls and leverages his hips to hit into it each time and Credence can’t stop the sounds ripping from his throat, high pitched and needy, and it’s  _ so _ much,  _ too _ much, and the only thing he can do is hold on to Percy’s arms as he drives into him. 

 

_ Ahhh ohh! Ahh!  _

 

_ Oh oh ahhhh, oh!  _

 

Heat races up his spine as Percy pounds into him, his thick cock rubbing into his prostate each time and tears burn in his eyes because it’s so good it almost hurts, but he  _ needs _ to come.

 

_ Pleaseeeee Percy! _

 

_ “ _ That good baby? Huh? _ ” _

 

_ Yea, yea,  _ **_ahhhnnn_ ** _! Oh god don’t stop!  _

 

Percy shoves his knees up towards his chest and kisses him hard as he hammers into him, panting in Credence’s ear and somehow the sound of him being wrecked sends him over the edge. 

 

His cock spurts between them and he whines high and loud and writhes as it rips the air from his lungs and burns into his blood. 

 

_ Ahhhhn! Yes! Ohhhhh! Ahhhaaa! Oh  _ **_god!_ **

 

A shiver runs down his spine as Percy just keeps going and his voice goes breathy and broken, his whole body arching as Percy manages to hit on his prostate with every other stroke. 

 

“Come on baby, one more,” Percy growls, pounding into him harder and Credence  _ can’t  _ it’s just too much, he feels like he’s going to burst out of his skin and fly apart from the pressure inside him, the tension that feels like it’ll tear him to pieces if he  _ doesn’t  _ come again and he doesn’t even know what he wants anymore. 

 

_ I can’t I can’t I can’t  _

 

“You can do it baby, come on, for me,” Percy croons in his ear, and he wants this sensation to end so he holds on as Percy drives into him, his nerves overstimulated and high pitched whines fill the air. 

 

Heat burns in his gut and he’s a mess, crying now as Percy reaches down to stroke his cock, overstimulated but needing something to make it end and he begs and begs, sobbing as he cums again, his cock throbbing and spurting until his balls ache and then Percy is shushing him and kissing him firmly, groaning into his ear as his hips stutter and Credence gasps at the heat that fills him. 

 

“Oh  **fuck** , oh Credence baby, oh my god, you feel amazing.” 

 

He whimpers as Percy’s cum fills him and then leaks out around the slowing thrusts, the sensation of it trickling down his thigh making him shiver and whine. They’re pressed together, Percy still inside him, lips brushing in brief kisses as they both gasp for air, and he’s amazed to realize Percy is trembling, clearly as overwhelmed as Credence is. 

 

He runs his hands over Percy’s back slowly, trying to come down from the tide of emotion and sensation inside himself, heart beating fast as he closes his eyes and relishes in the feeling of Percy’s weight pressing him into the mattress. 

 

Percy tucks his face into Credence’s neck and kisses it softly, hot breath washing against his sweaty skin. 

 

“That was amazing Credence. You were incredible. So beautiful and strong and and just,  _ god _ I love you.”

 

Tears leak out again and he wipes them away hastily, clearing his throat before he can whisper back. 

 

“I love you too Percy.”

 

Before they fall asleep Percy cleans them off and pulls Credence into his arms and he’s never felt more safe or happy in his entire life. 

 

* * *

 

 

**_Six months later_ **

 

After a hot summer spent at Percy’s house outside the city, it’s nice to be back in the rush of things. Momo is back at school and Credence is taking classes too at Julliard, teaching piano three times a week and composing music in every spare moment he has. 

 

The apartment they share with Percy is covered in scraps of paper with chord progressions and shorthand so he doesn’t forget his ideas, a notebook and pen never far from hand no matter where he is. 

 

It’s almost Thanksgiving and he’s trying to finalize a piece he’s been working on for months, so anxious to get it right because it’s never felt complete—and he knows he should just leave it alone and come back to it when he’s not so stressed, but it feels like he might actually have finished it, or at least gotten close this time. 

 

He’s scheduled for a tour of major cities in the spring—Miami, Atlanta, Pittsburgh, Washington DC, and New York—and he had worried about Momo being alone while he’s gone, but Tina and Queenie have graciously offered to step up and stay with her while he and Percy tour for six weeks. 

 

After some consideration and many long discussions, the older man had decided to take a year off to consider his options. Credence was never more proud of his love than when he decided to go to therapy so he could cope with the loss of Theo and the ensuing scars his death had left behind. 

 

He’s gone to a few sessions with Percy and shared with the counselor his own scars, the burdens his past puts on their relationship and walked away with tools to help them move forward together. 

 

_ Healing from trauma isn’t like a marathon; there’s no end point, there’s just another hill to climb, and you’ll have to do it together over and over again.  _

 

He has his own struggles with trauma, namely the woman who inflicted it upon him, and while he’s tried visiting her in the hospital, he’s yet to get past the visitor’s desk before panicking and leaving. Each time he tries Percy is there, waiting with a hug and reassuring kiss to tell him how strong and brave he is.

 

When Percy decides to meet with his father for the first time in almost two years, he holds Credence’s hand the whole drive over to the Governor’s office. The man is just as cold and intimidating as Percy had described him, but when they’re leaving the man hesitates and offers his hand to Percy, holding onto it as he murmurs almost shyly,  _ Maybe we can have dinner sometime? _

 

Credence can see Percy struggling to answer so he steps up and lays his hand gently on Percy’s free forearm, drawing his gaze down for a moment so he can smile softly, encouragingly at the man he loves. 

 

_ Sure yea, okay, _ Percy agrees, and they make it a block away from the regal building before Percy breaks down crying and hyperventilating. Credence holds him and breathes steadily, guiding him through it, and when the man does come for dinner, Credence plays for them, listening as the stilted conversation eventually flows into talk of real things. 

 

When Percy bids his father farewell that night it’s with a tentative hug and a promise of more dinners. It’s not perfect and Credence suspects it never will be, but it’s a hill they’re starting to climb together. 

 

* * *

 

 

He’s so nervous. 

 

More than he’s ever been about any performance and it’s not because the venue is incredible—he’s playing at the Kennedy Center and holy shit he’s never seen anything so beautiful—nor the A-list attendees, including three Senators and Percy’s father—no, it’s the fact that tonight he’s debuting a song he’s written specifically for Percy. 

 

He wanted to wait till they were back in New York to debut it, but Percy has to fly out early tomorrow morning to sign the paperwork for the land that will eventually be home to the New Hope Children’s Home of New York. 

 

He knows Percy is nervous to be the one running the organization, but Credence has seen first hand that when he was in need, Percy gave him everything he could, and still does. If there’s anyone who is better suited to caring for children and making sure they’re safe, Credence has no idea who it would be. 

 

He can hear the crowd murmuring in the distance, like a sea of whispers, and it sends a shiver over his spine to know that Percy is out there, waiting for him. 

 

The sound of the rain slows and he knows the blue light is coming on, and his stomach flips, nerves filling his belly like butterflies. The stage manager waves him on and he takes a moment to close his eyes, lets the fear and anxiety settle. He’s not unused to the feelings, but they’ve become less frequent now that he’s far removed from the church and has Momo and Percy in his life. 

 

A smile curls his lips and he exhales slowly, opening his eyes and nods at the stage manager before he pushes aside the curtain and steps out. The blue washes over him and he stands in it, letting the applause surround him before he walks to the piano in the center of the stage. 

 

He sits and rests his fingers on the keys, takes a deep breath, and plays.

 

He plays through all the songs he’s written for his CD and when he finishes he exhales heavily, sweat running down his spine as the audience cheers, rising to their feet to offer him a long ovation. 

 

They settle when he reaches for the microphone the manager had given him and he hears a few murmurs of surprise—he’s never done this before and everyone in the audience knows it. 

 

“Hello everyone,” he says, listening to his voice amplify through the room. “I’m so glad you enjoyed this evening, but I have one more song for you tonight and I hope you’ll indulge me for a moment.” 

 

He blushes and ducks his chin, “I never thought I’d play in a venue as beautiful as this, that I’d get to see cities as amazing as yours—” he grins as the audience cheers, “or see anything other than the walls of the place I grew up in. For me, music is not just an escape but a balm on my soul.”

 

The audience is quiet now and he smiles softly, “There is someone very dear to me here tonight and I dedicate this song and every song hereafter to him because baby, you are the song in my heart and the music in my soul.”

 

He turns off the microphone and sets it aside as the crowd murmurs and gasps, his stomach filled with butterflies, this time for an entirely different reason. Glancing to the side, he peers through the glare of the lighting till he finds a familiar figure in the front row and smiles softly before turning back to the keys.

 

The music flows from his fingertips, achingly beautiful and hauntingly sincere. This isn’t just a song, it’s his heart, on a plate and offered willingly to Percy. Tears burn in his eyes as the song comes to a close and his head drops as the audience remains silent for a long, tense moment before exploding into applause.

 

It takes him until the applause finally starts to die to collect himself, and when he rises from the piano he sees that most of the people are funneling out the double doors at the back of the theater. There’s one figure at the front though, standing, watching, waiting, and his stomach flips with excitement.

 

He meets Percy’s gaze and winks before slipping off the stage, out the back and into an alley where the sun is setting slowly and leans against the wall, waiting. 

 

He’s rewarded a few minutes later when the sounds of footsteps on concrete grow louder before a figure cuts around the corner and he contains his smile as it approaches. 

 

The man is handsome, a shadow of stubble on his chin and a gleam in his eye that sends heat through Credence’s belly, the cut of his suit revealing a fit figure, impressive given the silver in his hair. 

 

“Hey kid, just wanted to say how amazing you are,” the man murmurs, stepping closer, so close that Credence can smell his cologne, heady and dark and delicious. 

 

“Oh, thank you sir. That’s very kind of you.”

 

The man grins, “Can I buy you a drink?”

 

Credence stifles his own smirk and shakes his head, “I’m sorry I’m waiting on my boyfriend, but thank you.”

 

The man steps closer and Credence inhales unsteadily as his heat radiates out, tempting Credence to lean into it.

 

“Must be a special man to have captured your heart,” the man whispers, voice low and rough. 

 

Credence reaches up to tangle his fingers in his hair, angling his chin up so their lips are mere inches apart. 

 

“He’s perfect,” Credence whispers, “and he’s all mine.”

 

Percy grins and closes the distance, his lips warm and soft and hungry against Credence’s and he sighs into the embrace, the feeling of rightness settling into his bones. 

 

“All yours baby,” Percy whispers, smiling as he kisses Credence over and over again until their lips are swollen and their hips are slotted together, seeking out friction. 

 

“What’s my song called?” Percy asks as he kisses down his neck, sending a shiver of delight over his spine.

 

“Love is a Mystery,” he replies and waits with bated breath for Percy to react. 

 

There’s a chuckle of laughter and then the older man is pulling back to smile at him, hand cupping his cheek gently. 

 

“It sure is baby. But it’s no mystery how much I love  _ you _ .”

 

Love is a mystery, he supposes; lucky thing he’s got a Detective around. 

 

* * *

 

 

**One year later**

 

The grand opening of the New Hope Children’s Home of New York is a grand affair—no less than the governor himself attends, along with two state senators and a handful of celebrities that had generously donated time and money to the organization to help get it on its feet.

 

Credence is a little stunned still, to be standing here next to Sam Smith and Rihanna,  even more stunned than he was when his manager had told him that not only did both artists want to collaborate on songs, but more and more were reaching out in the hopes he would write tracks with them. 

 

He’s friends now, with celebrities, and it hits him in that moment as they stand in front of where the church used to be that he’s worlds away from the place he grew up, even if he’s standing on the same ground. 

 

The main offices to the children’s home are located in the newly constructed building that was once where the Salemer’s church had stood, a touch that both Credence and Percy had debated over until Momo had simplified the issue with a casual,  _ Let the past die, and build something new.  _

 

So now the homeless and orphaned children of New York City will live in the grandeur provided by the donations of the wealthy elite and Percy’s own father, the name of his mother standing over the doorway to the girls residence; Lilah Graves Girl’s Wing. 

 

It brings Credence joy and peace of mind to know that children like himself will have someplace safe to go, get hot meals and warm beds without the threat of abuse or neglect hanging over them. 

 

Queenie Goldstein and her delightful husband Jacob staff the kitchens, baking and preparing healthy meals and sweet treats, and every police officer in New York City knows to bring children in need there, where they’ll be treated as family. 

 

_ Family _

 

A concept Credence hadn’t been able to comprehend while he was in the church where every relationship was built on fear and mistrust, but now, with Momo and Percy, he thinks he’s found his family. It’s small and they’re all a little broken, but it’s good, nonetheless. 

 

He smiles at Percy as they cut the ribbon across the entryway and he tucks his piece of velvet into his pocket, for safekeeping. Percy reaches out, hand waiting and Credence smiles at the familiar slide of his palm against his own. 

 

The cool touch of metal against his skin sends a shiver through him, and he glances down at the matching metal band on his finger, proof that he and Percy are married and are inextricably bound together, forever. 

 

When the crowds begin to disperse he stands, fingers tracing over the motto of the organization they’ve created. 

 

_ At the end of the day, it isn’t where I came from. Maybe home is somewhere I’m going and never have been before.  _

_     —Warsan Shire _

 

“You ready to go home sweetheart?”

 

Credence smiles softly and nods, turning to face Percy slowly, his fingers slipping from the cold stone to wrap around the warmth of Percy’s hand. 

 

“Let’s go home,” he murmurs, smiling as Momo skips ahead of them, grinning back over her shoulder at them. His heart lifts at the sight and he thinks that he’s never been happier than this,  _ here _ in this moment. 

 

Home; it’s somewhere he’s going, with these people he loves, and he’s going to hold onto it with both hands and never let go. 


End file.
